Mimesis
by Allendra
Summary: AU A young gypsy king faced with a crisis, a traitor among his people causing unrest, an unhappy girl longing for a new life, and a corrupted Judge ready to take advantage of all three.
1. Chapter 1

**Fanfic idea that's been bouncing around in my head the last few days.  
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**Disclaimer: I don't own HoND**

**Rated T for violence, torture, language, and sensuality**

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><p><strong>CH. 1<strong>

Orange lantern light caused the rough parchment to appear as if on fire, the black lines of the crude map of Paris made all the darker. There were three bold x's on the map. Four figures hovered about the chipped wooden table the parchment was on, their shadows flickering against the stone walls of the small room. Three hung back while one hunched over it, his hands planted on either side. A wooden door to the room was closed, but the clamor of muted voices, dancing music, and footsteps still drifted in. The smell of dust, lantern oil, stone and wood permeated the area.

A large man shuffled closer to the table, a bandana covering his bald head. His dark skin and colorful, rugged clothes marked him as a gypsy, matching the other gypsies in the room. "There doesn't appear to be any pattern to it, sir," he stated, speaking to the slender figure that was leaning over the map. "The locations are too far apart for it to be a specific spot. There's no evidence left behind for us to make a guess from that. I'd say Frollo is just tightening his grip." When he received no reply, he added, "And those locations are just speculation. That was their intended destination, anyway."

The slender gypsy heaved a sigh and tapped the map with one finger. "No, there's a pattern, alright. All three disappeared at night. All three were alone. And there's not a single trace left behind. They could be dead for all we know."

"Or locked away in the Palace of Justice," said a woman bitterly.

"That's worse than death," agreed the large man.

A silence stretched out, the small group of gypsies contemplating the horrors that the Palace of Justice held for any gypsy and other poor soul brought there that opposed the iron rule of the Judge.

At last the woman said, "What do you think, Clopin? What should we do?"

Clopin stood up straight, turning to face them. A wide hat shadowed his eyes, but they still managed to catch the lantern light. He frowned, drumming his fingers against the table. "Three gypsies missing in one week isn't mere chance. Spread the word that we're to remain cautious when leaving the Court. Keep weapons on yourselves. And . . . and encourage them to not go out alone." He didn't want to set any rules in stone, especially if it meant limiting his people's ability to travel at night alone. If there was one thing a gypsy cherished, it was freedom.

"Yes, sir," they agreed.

Clopin watched them leave, leaning back against the table. A frown darkened his face as he turned the puzzle over in his head. There was always the chance that they could be arrested by the Judge. They took that risk anytime they left their covert haven, the Court of Miracles. But something didn't feel right, and he couldn't quite place it.

The door opened again, the brighter light from the outside showing the silhouette of a young girl. As she shut the door behind her, her chocolate skin, wavy black hair, loose purple dress, and blazing emerald eyes came into view.

A grin broke across Clopin's face. "Esmeralda! How are you, little lady?"

The fifteen-year-old crossed her arms, arching one eyebrow as she gazed up at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Clopin, I've know you my whole life. I can tell when something's wrong."

His smile wavered, but amusement still glittered in his dark eyes. "Very well. C'mon." He gracefully hopped up to sit on the table, crossing his legs. Esmeralda followed suit, sitting on the opposite side of the map. She studied it, resting her chin in one hand.

"Paris," she stated, recognizing the map. "What are those three marks for?" But just after she said it, she realized what they represented. "The three missing gypsies? Is there any sign of them?"

"None," he answered. "We have volunteers still looking, but if they don't find anything by the end of this week, then we can only assume what happened."

Esmeralda snarled, hopping off the table and pounding her fist into her palm. "It's not fair! Frollo can't arrest us just because he feels like it!"

Clopin raised one eyebrow, a smirk crossing his face. "Ready to take on the whole Palace of Justice now, are you?"

"I am," she stated seriously, but a smile was tugging at her full lips. "I could take them all! And especially Judge Claude Frollo!"

He spread his arms. "Of course, _chérie_."

"You don't believe me?" she asked, placing a hand on her hip.

"Oh no, no, I believe you," he grinned. "Even _I _am scared of you when you're angry."

"Oh, really? I can only imagine how my reputation will soar if word gets out that the King of the Gypsies is scared of me."

He regarded her with a smile, the missing people momentarily forgotten. She bounded forward and took his hand, pulling him off the table.

"C'mon, you can fret over the map later," she said, opening the door and tugging him after her. He gave one last glance back at the map. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't quite place it. His thoughts were interrupted as Esmeralda continued, "Let's have some fun! Quincy has started up a game, and I know how you love to gamble."

The entered the main area of the Court of Miracles. The ceiling stretched high above them, stone columns supporting it. It would have been quite majestic, if much of the stone hadn't been broken or cracked. Color adorned the area in the clothes of the people, and of rugs on the floor and sheets hanging up. Some gypsies passed through it, heading to other sections of the Court. Others were conversing in small groups. Children ran about, their high-pitched laughter echoing off the stone walls. It smelled of torches and spices, and a man was strumming a bouncy tune.

Clopin gave a nod. "I love to gamble because I'm good at it."

Esmeralda laughed, dancing in front of him as they made their way through the throngs of people. "You can't be 'good' at gambling. It's just luck. And besides, last time you lost to Quincy."

His dark face twisted into a frown. "You're right! I have to redeem my name and get my revenge."

They went to a large group that was gathered in a circle, all their attention turned to the center. A booming, jovial voice called, "Alright, then! Who's next? I'm in all or nothing."

As the crowd began to part to allow their King and Esmeralda through, smiles on their faces, Clopin shouted, "I challenge you, Quincy!"

The two got to the center of the circle, a cleared off area for the game, and saw the smirking face of the gypsy Quincy. He was a huge, bulky man, towering over the others around him. He was bald with dark eyes, his tucked shirt barely containing his large belly. He had a gold tooth and scars on his arms from many fights that he had been in.

"Clopin?" Quincy laughed. "I get the pleasure of defeating you a _second _time?"

Clopin cracked his fingers, favoring the large man with a smile. "_Au contraire_ my good man, I let you win. But you have tarnished my reputation my prancing around and singing of your victory for the last three days." He took off his hat and bowed garishly. "So now it's time for me to teach you a lesson."

There was some excited cheering in the crowd. Esmeralda rolled her green eyes.

"_You _plan on beating _me_?" Quincy chuckled.

"I have ample skills," Clopin replied casually.

"It's just _luck," _Esmeralda repeated, shaking her head and drawing some laughs from the gathered gypsies.

"And my middle name is luck," Clopin countered.

Quincy seemed surprised. "It is? Really?"

Clopin scooped up the dice, rolling them in his hand experimentally. "One would wonder how I ever lost to you." He leaned conspiratorially toward Esmeralda, whispering, "If things appear to be going badly, I may have to turn this game into physical combat. I have to win somehow. Will you back me up?" He winked.

"Clopin, he's practically ten of you." She shoved him. "Just go and play the game."

The Gypsy King walked into the cleared circle, tossing the dice casually. "Are you ready to lose, Quincy?"

The large man chuckled, taking his own dice. "I think _I _shall win. But that's just speculation."

"That's a big word for you. I didn't think-" He stopped abruptly, something clicking his mind.

_Speculation. _

_ Speculation. _

What was it his friend had said?

_And those locations are just speculation. That was their intended destination, anyway._

Clopin paused, brow creasing as he thought, _But how would he know their intended destination, unless . . ._

"Are you ready?" Quincy pressed, seemingly ready to get the game started.

Clopin looked up. "Hold the game for a moment. You," he pointed to the gypsy man that had told him that while he'd shown him the map, "come with me. We need to talk." He dropped the dice and grabbed Esmeralda's wrist, pulling her after him as he began to delve back into the crowd. And, as if on second thought, he hesitated and looked back to Quincy and the gathered gypsies. He pointed a finger at them all. "And don't anyone dare take my turn!"

HoND

The carriage creaked lazily down the streets, its curtains drawn over the windows due to the light rain that was falling. The outside was polished and ornate, with swirling designs painted on the sides. The horses that drew it were proud and expensive, the coachman dressed affluently. The citizens of Paris on the streets pulled back to let it pass, watching with curiosity.

Inside the carriage was dimly lit with a soft white glow due to the outside rain, making it seem on the edge of dawn. Two adults sat straight on one seat. The man was dressed finely, with his brown hair smoothed back and his face clean-shaven. The woman had her blonde hair up in bun, a dress tight about her perfect figure. They were the image of sophistication. And both were staring down their noses at the girl in the opposite seat.

"Really, Avril," the woman sighed, as if the statement had become tedious, "can't you carry yourself in a more lady-like fashion? I can't have you looking miserable when we meet with the Archdeacon and the Judge."

Avril tore her gaze from the small slit between curtain and wood – just enough to get a glimpse outside – and favored her parents with an irritated glare. "But I _am _miserable."

"Stop whining," the man snapped. "You've made your opinion quite clear on us moving to Paris, but it's not your decision. And your mother is right; act like a lady."

Avril leaned back in the seat, looking out through the slit again. The pink dress felt uncomfortable on her, even though she knew it was very lovely. Her pale blonde hair was curled and hung just above her shoulders. She had eyes so light a shade they could barely be called blue, and pale skin with a splattering of freckles across her nose. Her mother, Silvine, would often compliment her on being a "pale beauty" and said it was "as if the sun never touched her". Avril wasn't sure how this was a compliment; especially since her more blunt classmates had told her she looked like a dead girl.

"You are a young woman now," her father, Bernard, continued. "And you are to present yourself as such to the Archdeacon and Judge. When we arrive, clasp your hands behind you and don't say a word. If they do ask you a question . . ."

Bernard continued, but Avril was no longer listening. Her attention was arrested by a bouncing, casual tune coming from the streets. A sound she'd never heard in the previous rural town she'd lived in. She leaned forward, pulling the curtain back fractionally. She glanced over the cramped buildings and thin crowds to a colorfully dressed older man and plump woman who stood under a stone arch. He played an instrument while she danced, and there was a pot at their feet that passing people were throwing money into. Avril cocked her head to the side, having never seen such a display.

Silvine made a sound of disgust. "_Gypsies. _Duval warned us about that, didn't he Bernard? He told us if we moved to Paris we'd find gypsies."

"Yes, indeed," he agreed.

Silvine shook her head. "It's terribly disgusting, the kind of foul peasantry you find in the city. You would have never seen that on our estate."

Avril turned from the gypsies, frowning. "If you hate it so much, then why did we move here?"

"For my business, my dear," Bernard answered coldly. "And you should appreciate the money I bring in more. Otherwise, you wouldn't have that lovely gown, this carriage, or even that pearl necklace."

Avril subconscious brought her hand up to the necklace, fingering it in irritation.

"I wouldn't worry too much, dear," Silvine said to her daughter. "We have gotten a very nice home in the more sophisticated part of the city. We won't have to mingle with the commoners for long."

Her mother pulled the curtain closed again, cutting off Avril's view. But the scene she'd seen still played through her head as she leaned back in her seat. She turned her mother's words over in her head. _Mingle with the commoners. _What did that mean, anyway? Avril had no experience with the "commoners" that her parents and other wealthy French always referred to. From the picture they painted, it had at first seemed that the "commoners" were heathen, dirty, uneducated, ill-mannered, and rather pathetic creatures that one had to tolerate.

But as Avril had grown older and she had begun to stray from and question her parents' point of view, she wondered how much faith she could place in such a statement. What was life like for "commoners", anyway? Was it so very different from her own?

The carriage rattled to a halt and the door opened. The rain had stopped, but gray clouds still hung low over the dark roofs of the city. Bernard stepped out first, smiling and saying, "We've arrived at the Palace of Justice."

He held out his hand for Silvine to step daintily out. Then Avril did the same, except with somewhat less grace. She tugged at her dress in an attempt to make it more comfortable, getting her first look at the Palace of Justice.

It rose up toward the sky higher than the surrounding buildings. Only the cathedral, Notre Dame, rivaled it some distance away. Pointed spires seemed to try to pierce the rain clouds like daggers. The stone was considerably darker than the other buildings, and it had a large staircase ascending to its entrance. Black windows stared out at Paris, and water still dripped from their awnings like tears.

"It's quite magnificent," Silvine breathed.

"I think it looks rather bleak," Avril stated.

"Hush," her father scolded. "We're going to meet Judge Claude Frollo."

They went up the steps, Avril having to lift her dress so she didn't trip. The noise and bustle of the streets faded behind them and once they reached the top, Avril felt like she was in an entirely different place. She paused for a moment, turning around to gaze down upon Paris. It was certainly a location of power. From up here it seemed that all of Paris could be monitored. And she remembered that, down at the base of the stairs, looking up at the Palace made her feel very small and inferior.

They were let in and entered into a grand foyer. It was surprisingly dark, the only light coming from the windows and torches on the walls. A double staircase branched off to the second floor, there was a small sitting area, and a large set of doors at the far end. It was through these that Judge Claude Frollo came.

Avril didn't like him the moment she saw him. She'd seen one too many powerful men that all carried themselves the same way: upright, stiff, tight lipped, and always gazing down their noses. Adding a dark robe, silver hair, and wrinkles on a gray skin pallor made Frollo seem menacing. Though, she supposed, as the minister of justice, he had to be.

Frollo spread his arms, smiling in a way that didn't reach his eyes. "Greetings. You must be the Desmarais from northern France. I am very pleased that you've come to take residence in our city. I'm especially happy that you're here, Bernard. I am quite interested in your business dealings."

Avril rolled her pale blue eyes. That was a line she'd heard all too often. Movement in her peripheral vision caught her eye, and she turned to see a young woman about her age clinging to the far wall and watching with interest.

Frollo seemed to notice her distraction, because he glanced in the direction of her gaze. "Ah, that's my niece, Brigette Leveque. My brother's family has stopped by for a visit. I was allowing them to see inside the Palace of Justice today. You can go talk to her . . ."

"Avril," she said quickly, registering his waiting look. "My name is Avril."

"Avril," Frollo repeated. "You may go meet her. I'm sure you two can keep each other entertained. All this talk of business must bore you."

His smirk took away any casualty his sentence might have conveyed. Without waiting for her parents to protest, Avril walked away and toward Brigette. Anything was better than standing still and being quiet for who knows how long while her father spoke. And perhaps this Brigette could be her first friend in Paris.

The girl was smaller, with auburn hair, green eyes, and a condescending smile. She wore a dark red dress and had her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow at Avril's approach.

"And who might you be?" Brigette asked.

"Avril Desmarais," she answered. "My family just moved here."

"Ah, good," Brigette said. "That will give me someone to talk to. Goodness knows with my ridiculous brother always moping in his room I have no intelligent conversation." Her smirk widened. "Not that he could provide any, anyway."

Avril wasn't really sure what to make of her statement, so she said instead, "Judge Frollo said you're his niece?"

"Yes. He's not exactly a fun uncle. He's always too busy with his crusade to stop sin to pay us much attention. Still, he's family."

Brigette's tone didn't seem to indicate that this bothered her much at all. She sounded somewhat bored with the whole situation.

Avril tilted her head to the side, some pale blonde strands of hair falling in front of her eyes. "His . . . crusade?"

Brigette favored her with an amused smirk. She held out her arm. "Come take a walk with me. If you're going to be living in Paris, you need to know a little about my uncle."

Avril tentatively looped her arm around the girl's and went with her outside of the Palace of Justice and onto the stone veranda. They went up to the side of it – which reached their waists – and looked out across Paris. The clouds seemed to be threatening rain again, hanging low and heavy. Gray puddles splattered the streets, and rooftops still dripped. The scent of rain hung about the city.

"My uncle . . ." Brigette sighed in a way that seemed to show how trivial she found the situation. "He feels it's his holy duty to hunt down all the gypsies in Paris and get rid of them. He feels they corrupt the minds of the people, especially the common folk. Which, unfortunately, make up a majority."

"Isn't 'holy duty to hunt down' a self-contradicting statement?" Avril asked. "I mean, God sees us all equal."

Brigette's green eyes widened and then narrowed as she glared at her. "Good gracious, Avril, what a naïve girl you are. The gypsies aren't people. I've had the misfortune of seeing gypsies a few times when passing through Paris. Their crude dancing, raunchy songs, and penniless ways are a disgrace to all that is good and righteous in this world." She gave her a sidelong, exasperated look, "They _hate _people like us because we have money; and they don't."

Avril felt somewhat offended by that. After all, she didn't come into such a fortune by choice. She was born into it. For someone to hate her because of circumstances outside of her control seemed unfair. But she decided against voicing this thought. She could tell she'd upset Brigette, and didn't want to already make an enemy. She leaned on the stone, looking across the rainy city.

"If you stay in Paris long enough," Brigette said, "and keep close to my uncle, then you'll get to witness his gypsy hunt first-hand."

HoND

Esmeralda hurried behind Clopin, holding up her skirt as her bare feet danced across the stone. They left the crowd of gypsies behind, the man Clopin had pointed out following, and made their way back to the room the map had been left in.

While not an actual blood relationship, Clopin was like a big brother to her. Esmeralda had known him her whole life, and cared for him very much. They had had many misadventures together, had gotten up before the sun to walk Paris, and had stayed up late into the night telling each other stories. Of course, he was a better story teller than her, but it seemed she never ceased to amuse him. He was a great singer, and she was a wonderful dancer. Together, she knew their act worked magic.

And it was because of their closeness that she felt an extra sting when times became rough. When they were pressed for supplies. When they were low on food. When Frollo's guards were chasing them. And even worse, when one of the gypsies were arrested. Esmeralda could read the look in Clopin's dark eyes quite clear in those circumstances. As their King, they were his people, and he hated to see them suffering. Because they suffered, he suffered. And because he suffered, Esmeralda suffered.

It was at these times that she felt a burning hatred for Frollo. Something needed to be done. Someone needed to stand up to him. And so, as she followed Clopin and another gypsy into the small, lantern-lit room, she hoped that whatever had caught Clopin's attention would aid in stopping Judge Claude Frollo.

The door shut softly behind them and Clopin hopped lightly up onto the wooden table. The lantern rattled and the wood creaked, but both kept straight. He scooped up the map and held it out for both of them to see.

"First off," the Gypsy King said, "can we all agree that three gypsies missing in one week with no sign of them and no escapee returning to the Court to tell us is an odd occurrence?"

"We can," Esmeralda responded, the other man nodding.

Clopin turned to him, thrusting the map out further. "When you were showing me this, what was it you said?"

"Uh . . ." the man paused, thinking. His neck cracked as he tilted it back to meet the Clopin's gaze; he wasn't use to looking up at their King.

"C'mon, focus," Clopin snapped. "What did you tell me?"

"Um . . ."

"Was it, by chance, '_And those locations are just speculation. That was their intended destination'?" _

The man hesitantly nodded, palpably not sure if he should own up to that statement. "I . . . think so."

Clopin lowered the map, placing one fist on his hip and leaning toward the man. "How did you know where they were going? Did they tell you?"

"Uh . . . yes. Well, two of them did. The third told some others before she left and I heard it from them."

"That was Hilde, wasn't it?" Esmeralda said. "She never gets caught."

"She had nine lives, that one," Clopin acquiesced. "But listen. They told others where they were going before they left. Then they vanished. They're not in the stocks, they're not doing public service, they're not being announced as arrested or awaiting execution. And why would Frollo do that?"

Esmeralda's brow furrowed for a moment, and then she gasped. She raised her green eyes to Clopin, seeing the same dismal look mirrored in his own. "Oh, no."

"What?" the man asked. "Do you think . . ." He trailed off, realization dawning on him, too.

"That's right," Clopin sighed, rolling up the map. He hopped down and tied the map shut before meeting their gazes again. "I think we have a traitor among our people."

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><p><strong>Please Review!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own HoND. I wish I owned Clopin. 8D**

**CH. 2**

Esmeralda stood in the corner of the stone streets, warm sunlight raining down and glinting off her jewelry. She danced to the beat of her tambourine, smiling radiantly at all the passer-by's and winning over their interest and sympathy. Her young beauty and charms made her instantly likeable to most all those who crossed her path. She knew she was lucky in that. There were plenty of gypsies who certainly couldn't get by on their looks and had to rely on other means to get money.

Paris was boisterously noisy. The rain clouds had moved on, revealing a clear blue sky. Some puddles still sat in the lower areas of the streets, but they sparkled in the sunlight. People went in and out of buildings, the door banging against the frames. Dogs and goats and other pets bounced around legs. Some people hurried through the streets, others walked leisurely. There was talking, laughing, griping, shouting and whining. There were tall and short, fat and thin, men and women, children and elderly, rich, poor, and everything in between.

The entire atmosphere was so diverse and Esmeralda found in invigorating.

A familiar goat's bleat broke through the noise, and she glanced to the side to see her own small goat, Djali, stomping his hooves warningly.

Soldiers.

That was the one thing Esmeralda disliked about Paris. The soldiers that enforced Frollo's prejudice toward gypsies. She had a feeling that if Frollo was removed, then her people's situation wouldn't be so bleak.

She scooped up the hat people had been depositing money in. The soldiers loved to take money from gypsies whenever the chance arose. It was far easier to just run rather than try to argue or fight. It was a losing cause, no matter how innocent the gypsy really was.

Esmeralda darted around the side of a building, pressing her back against it. Djali hid behind her purple skirt. No one paid her much attention. She heard the clanking of the soldiers' armor and their voices getting louder before beginning to recede. She leaned forward, just enough to be able to see them. They were heading away from her and on down the street.

She frowned, registering their course. Clopin was in that area. She bent down to her goat. "Djali, warn Clopin, would you? I'll be right there."

Djali nodded and pranced off, weaving through the crowds.

Esmeralda smiled, pushing her thick black hair behind one ear. She tied the hat closed and put both it and her tambourine in a satchel that she slung about her torso. There was still plenty of time left in the day to earn money, so she could go shopping for food later. She had gotten quite a lot of coins today. Maybe she'd have enough to by a new corset. The one she had on was getting torn.

She set her sights in the direction the guards had vanished and headed that way, staying close to the wall and walking casually. She trailed her hand along the stone, feeling the bumps and cracks and dirt on it. She heard the bells of Notre Dame tolling, and it was a soothing sound over the clamor of the city.

It didn't take very long until she could hear Clopin's distinct voice ringing out into the sunlight. She smiled and picked up her pace, her bare feet patting over the road. She saw a crowd gathered around a make-shift stage, all looking up with bright smiles on their faces. They were clapping in unison to a lively song Clopin was singing. He was dancing around the stage, interacting with the audience, making quick jokes between lines, and in general being a charismatic performer. The bag he had on the corner of the stage was already stuffed with coins. Esmeralda shook her head fondly, leaning against the wall to watch.

He was wearing the outfit he always went out in to perform. It was vividly colored, with yellows and purples and blues. A hat was tilted up too far to shade his eyes from the sun, and a yellow feather sat in it, fluttering in the breeze. A mask covered half of his face, making his eyes stand out more. He felt the mask was needed to help conceal his identity. He was well-known as a performer in Paris, particularly in regards to the Festival of Fools. But he was also the king of the gypsies. He wanted to keep those two identities separate for fear of someone finding out and trying to take advantage of that.

The glint of sunlight off silver caught Esmeralda's eyes and she saw the three guards that she'd avoided going warily up to the stage. They were obviously not pleased at the presence of a gypsy, but could tell how much the crowd enjoyed him.

They didn't have long to deliberate on their course of action, because Clopin paused in his song and called out to them, "_Bonjour, _soldiers! Come to enjoy the song? I'll let you help out on the chorus, if you'd like."

This was met with some chuckles.

One of the guards scowled. "You watch yourself, _gypsy. _We're just making sure you're not stealing these people's money."

Clopin mocked shock. "_Stealing? _How can you accuse me of such a thing? As you can see, these folks are paying me honestly for my talents. Perhaps if you were more skilled you could do the same."

Esmeralda sighed with bemusement, whispering, "Oh, Clopin, why do you enjoy embarrassing them like this?"

The soldiers were evidently angry, but now quite a few of the spectators had turned to glare at them, upset their show was being interrupted.

"Just let him get on with it!" one man in the crowd shouted, a woman acquiescing.

"Fine," one of the soldiers snapped. "We'll let you continue." The three of them began approaching the crowd. "But we'll stay and watch, too, so we can be sure you're not breaking any laws."  
>The smile never left Clopin's dark face as the guards pushed their way to the front to stand by the stage. As they stopped, the Gypsy King asked, "Can I expect any coins from you, then?" Some of the spectators laughed.<p>

"No," one guard snapped.

"Really?" Clopin tilted his head to the side. He crouched down on the stage so that he was eye-level with the guard. He reached out one hand and patted the man on the shoulder. "Because-" With a flick of his wrist he pulled a coin out from behind the man's ear, "-it seems you're quite interested in contributing to the arts."

Claps sounded in the crowd, the soldier now red-faced.

Clopin flipped the coin into the bag with a _clink, _winking. "_Merci, _my dear soldiers. It's much appreciated." He reached down and tapped the bag of money. "Do I get anymore?"

"_Just sing!" _another guard snapped.

The Gypsy King held his hands up innocently. "Very well, very well. We shall get along peacefully. Truce?" He held out one hand to shake. The soldier held up his own tentatively and seemed about to pull it back before Clopin captured it in a hand-shake. But when he pulled away, three coins glittered in his palm. "Good sir! You shouldn't have!"

The audience cheered, a few whistles sounding.

The third soldier started forward, one hand reaching for his sword hilt. "Now see here-"

With one lightning-fast move Clopin had switched his own hat and the soldier's silver helmet, the brim of it sitting low over his dark eyes. The guard stopped abruptly, wide-eyed. The crowd was cheering and clapping again.

"Do you want your hat back?" Clopin asked. And without waiting for an answer he popped off the helmet, revealing a pile of coins sitting on his black hair. He swept his own blue hat off the soldier's head, placed it firmly on top of his own, did a low bow at the eruption of cheers from the crowd, and then vanished in an explosion of purple smoke.

As the shouts of approval still rang out from the spectators even though their performer was gone, Esmeralda smiled and headed around to the next street, seeing Clopin drop down onto a stack of hay.

She went over to him, her full lips in a smirk. "Well, well. That was certainly entertaining."

He looked up at her, flashing a grin. "Why thank you." He pulled the coins out from under his hat, adding them to the bag. Then he tied the bag shut, saying, "I saw Djali, but I couldn't resist a chance to show those soldiers up."

"Naturally," she laughed.

Clopin stood up, the bells on his clothes jangling. "Let's go. There's an alley just back there."

They made their way quickly through the crowds and into a narrow, empty street. Grime stained the buildings and most of the windows were boarded shut. It smelled of dirt and decay. Clopin bounded into a narrow passage between two of the buildings, a dead-end, calling, "Keep watch for me, will you, _chérie?" _

"Of course." She stood at the alley entrance and turned her back to it, facing out into the empty street. She crossed her arms, taking up a casual pose. Paris had quite a few areas that were run-down and rarely frequented except by those that lived there. One such area was where the entrance to the Court of Miracles was located. Luckily, the only people who lived there were dead. The Court was under a cemetery and through the old catacombs.

The gypsies used such locations for various purposes. Whether to do a quick meeting while out in the city, to avoid guards, or – as in Clopin's current case – to change clothes from his performing outfit to a more practical one. Yet another identity that he liked to separate.

"Alright," his voice sounded from behind her.

Esmeralda stepped aside, turning around. His clothes and money were in a large bag strung around his shoulder. He wore a simple tunic and pants and a cloak with the hood up. It shadowed most of his face, still keeping his features secret from the majority of the public.

"Let's do some shopping before we return to the Court," Clopin said. "And let's hope once we get there we'll have a bigger lead as to who our traitor is."

"I hope so," Esmeralda sighed. "I can't believe one of our own would betray us!"

Clopin regarded her for a moment, his expression sad. At last he said, "Sometimes, people do strange things."

HoND

Avril leaned over the balcony, staring at the people three stories below. Wind pushed her blonde hair back from her face. The house behind her was grand and ornate. It had beautiful furnishings and much space. Her room was everything she could have asked for. Her parents were thrilled at their new home.

But Avril wasn't.

She couldn't quite place why. In fact, she wasn't sure what had put her in such a skeptical and introspective mood since they'd arrived in Paris. It was . . . different than the country. She'd barely seen anyone outside of her own social class in her previous home. And here . . . well, she couldn't even look out her window without seeing them.

The sun was warm on her pale skin, the smell of a nearby bakery drifting to her. People moved about the streets below like a giant kaleidoscope. She found it fascinating to watch. She could hear bits and pieces of conversation drifting up to her.

A little boy directly below her paused and pointed up, getting his mother's attention. Avril could barely hear his voice over the din. "Mommy, look! Is that a princess?"

Avril felt a smile and a blush start to form when the mother glanced up at her and snapped, "Of course not. She's just one of those rich snobs that know nothing of real life. C'mon."

They moved further down the street, Avril gaping after them. Heat burned her face, but it wasn't because of the little boy's compliment. How _dare _that woman . . .

Avril paused in her thoughts, reconsidering. She didn't think she was a snob, but the woman _was _right about one thing. She knew nothing of the commoners' lives. She was completely ignorant to it. Just like her parents, just like Brigette, and just like all the other wealthy people she'd met.

"But I don't want to be ignorant," Avril whispered to the warm breeze. "I want to know what they're like. I don't want to just take my parents' opinion; I want to know for myself."

An idea began to form in her mind. A crazy, unusual, startling idea. She instantly rejected it. No. No way. She could never- Could she? If her parents didn't find out, if no one found out . . .

"Avril!"

She was sure she'd jumped a mile high as she turned around at the sound of her mother's voice. Silvine was leaning against the doorframe, frowning out her. "Get in here, child. There's nothing to see out there."

Avril glanced down at all the people. "I thought you said we were moving to the high social class side of Paris, Mom?"

Silvine shook her head. "We did. Sadly, this is how many commoners live in Paris. But, fortunately, no peasant has a home on this side. They just pass through."

Avril looked back down at the streets, entranced as she watched the people now that the rebellious idea had taken hold of her mind and refused to let go.

"Let's go, Avril," Silvine snapped. "It's lunch time. The chef has prepared a very nice meal. But before we eat, someone has stopped by to see you. His name is Gervais. He's Brigette's brother."

HoND

Avril sat on the sofa, her ankles crossed and hands folded in her lap – the appropriate posture for a meeting of high-born strangers. The small social room was well-lit by sunlight coming from the window. A low table separated her sofa and the sofa Gervais was seated on.

Gervais bore a strong resemblance to Brigette, making Avril deduce that they were twins. He had the same auburn hair and green eyes. But instead of the condescending smirk Brigette wore, he had a welcoming smile.

"My sister has talked non-stop about you since yesterday," Gervais chuckled. "I just had to meet you for myself. We haven't had any friends since we came here. It will be nice, so long as we stay."

"How long are you planning on staying?" Avril asked.

"About two months more," he replied. "We live on the border by Spain, so it's a long journey."

"It's very nice to meet you," Avril said, remembering her manners. "My family has moved here, so I'm sure I'll be disappointed to see your family go."

He gave her a soft smile before saying, "So what did you think of my sister?"

Avril hesitated, her mouth open to reply. But she didn't know what to say.

Gervais laughed. "It's all right. I know she's stuffy. Out of the two of us, I'm the fun one."

She grinned, glad that she hadn't insulted him. "Your uncle Frollo seems rather the same way."

He nodded, leaning back against the sofa. "He is. Even more so than Brigette, I'm afraid."

Avril played with a small ring on her finger nervously. She knew this was odd conversation to bring up, but she was too interested to stop herself. "Brigette said that Frollo . . . that he hates gypsies."

"Ah, yes," Gervais nodded. "But who likes them, anyway? Fortunately for Uncle Frollo, he has the power to do something about them."

She hesitated, glancing out the window. But all she could see was the roofs of buildings and the blue sky. "Why does he hate them? Brigette told me they're immoral, but . . . It seems then he should want to help, rather than destroy them."

Gervais gave her that same look Brigette had. "Avril . . . This is your first time in Paris, so I know you don't understand. But you have to be careful what you say. People might get the wrong impression."

"Like what?"

He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Like you're siding with the gypsies."

Avril didn't see how it was fair for it to be black and white. Why was it that whenever she said something about the gypsies, she made someone angry? Were they really that tender of subject? Did they really draw that much attention?

"Anyway," Gervais said, changing the subject. "This is a lovely home."

"Thank you," she responded, not entirely sure if she was glad for the new topic. "My father chose well."

"If you'd like, I can take you on a tour of the more sophisticated parts of Paris."

"I'd like that," she agreed, smiling. "I'd like that very much."

HoND

Night fell faster than Avril would have hoped, and anxiety about her plan had been building in her for the rest of the monotonous day. As her parents had gone to bed and all the lights in the house had gone out, Avril had laid restlessly in her bed. She stared up at the ceiling, her heart pounding. She had her curtains open to let in white moonlight, and it illuminated her large room, four-posted bed, dresser and chair in a surreal glow.

After she decided a decent amount of time had passed, she sat up. Raking her fingers nervously through her hair, she hopped out of bed and went over to her dresser. She rummaged through it as silently as she could, grabbing the plainest dress she could find. She quickly pulled it on and then grabbed a cloak, draping it over her shoulders. She tied her hair back from her face and pulled on her horse-riding boots.

Taking a calming breath, Avril then arranged her pillows underneath her covers to look like she was still sleeping. She went over to her window and climbed out onto the tiny balcony that she thought could serve no purpose except to look good on the outside.

The night air was colder and the streets were less dense with people. Only a few shops had glows coming from them. From somewhere in the distance she could hear music from a bar.

She hesitated. Was this such a good idea? Going out among commoners was strange enough in itself, but at night? Was it safe?

Making up her mind that she had to at least try, and that night was the most opportune time, she turned to the vines that snaked from her balcony down to the street. She shakily climbed off the balcony and onto them, testing their strength before she put her weight on them entirely. They were scratchy and made noise, but she tried to climb down as best she could. It was an awkward, difficult, and messy process, and by the time she had reached the street she was sweaty, irritated, and had quite a few leaves stuck to her.

Dusting herself off, Avril pulled up her hood and began walking into Paris. Her adrenaline was on high, making her notice every creak of a wagon wheel, every hushed voice, and every closing and opening of doors. The people that were out paid her no attention. She saw elderly and young couples going on a nighttime walk, smiling. She saw single men hurrying to some unknown destination. She saw a few stray animals bounding along the streets. And she saw suspicious looking people creeping about in the shadows.

Avril drew her cloak tighter around her, feeling fractionally more confident. She could do this. She would be fine. Just a few more minutes, and then she could head home.

She turned round a corner and under a stone bridge when a figure running from the other side collided into her. Avril would have been knocked down if the wall hadn't been right there. The other person – a girl- just stumbled and quickly regained her balance.

"Sorry," Avril said quickly.

"Sorry," the girl replied automatically, hurrying on her way.

Avril stood up straight and saw something white at her feet. She glanced down to see some sort of necklace. It had a leather tie and was shaped like an oval. White and blue bands were woven in the center of the oval. In the exact center was a cross, and not far to the right was smaller, more stylized cross. Avril picked it up, frowning at it. She glanced at the vanishing figure of the girl, then began jogging after her. "Miss! Miss!"

The girl stopped, turning around. She had dark skin and thick black hair. She looked to be some years younger than Avril, and she was quite beautiful.

"I think you dropped this," Avril said, holding it out.

The girl quickly took it, hooking it around the pink band in her hair. She looked at Avril suspiciously before relaxing and saying, "Thank you." Then she raced off.

Avril watched after her for a moment, feeling pleased that she'd been a good person, that she'd had her first interaction with a commoner, and-

That girl was a gypsy.

The realization hit her like lighting, sending her mind reeling, gut clenching, and heart thundering. She backed back into the shadow under the bridge, her hand on her chest.

_A gypsy. _

_ I talked to a gypsy. _

She was lovely, Avril decided. Young, but very pretty. She could see no one in pursuit, so it didn't seem she had been running _from _anybody. Avril wondered where she'd been running to.

Feeling far too distracted to continue on, she hurried back to her home. She climbed up the vines with difficulty, her muscles aching by the time she reached the top. She pulled herself onto the tiny balcony and opened the window back up. She was greeted with darkness and silence. No one had woken up.

Allowing herself a self-pleased smile, she slipped inside and closed the window behind her. She quickly pulled off her clothes and stuffed them into the dresser. Putting her blue nightgown back on, she jumped into the bed and pulled the covers over her.

Avril took a moment to stare dazedly up at the ceiling, breathing hard. Adrenaline was still coursing through her, making her feel light-headed and happy. She pressed the blanket to her mouth to stifle the giggle that had suddenly escaped. She laughed into it, her shoulders shaking.

"Wow," she whispered, clutching either side of her head. "_Wow,_ I can't believe I _did _that!"

And at that moment Avril was irrevocably certain that she had to do it again.

HoND

Clopin paced restlessly in the ankle-deep water in the entrance tunnel to the Court of Miracles. Moist stone surrounded him, the water dark and murky. Skeletons were piled along the sides, their blank eye sockets watching him. He knew that somewhere in here guards were posted, in disguise as skeletons themselves. Once the night ended, it would be a new group's turn. The Court of Miracles was guarded at all times.

"It's me!" Esmeralda's voice echoed down the tunnel. "It's Esmeralda! I'm fine."

Clopin ran toward the sound of her voice, kicking up water. He saw her wading through, holding up her dress. She just had time to smile in greeting before he captured her in an embrace.

"I was worried!" he gasped.

"I know, I'm sorry," she responded, squeezing him tightly. "I didn't mean to stay out so late, especially with all this going on. I lost track of the time."

He pulled back, sighing. "Goodness, _chérie, _you gave me a heart attack!"

She laughed. "Sure I did." Her face turned serious. "Any word about . . .?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

Esmeralda sighed as they began walking toward the Court. "I don't like this. Do you have any plans for tracking down this 'gypsy'?"

"I do," Clopin nodded.

"Like what?"

He glanced surreptitiously around. "I'll . . . talk about it later. In the mean time, Margot decided today that she wants to have a big group dance." He winked. "You're just in time."

"That sounds like fun," she agreed.

They continued on through the catacomb tunnel until they reached the Court of Miracles. People were grouped about, ready to begin the dance, which had its music already playing. But before Clopin and Esmeralda could start over to the dance area, they were intercepted by Quincy. His large form shadowed them, his scarred arms crossed over his chest.

"Sir," Quincy said.

Clopin nodded his greeting. "Yes?"

"I have something I think you'll be interested in."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own HoND :(**

**CH. 3**

Night hung heavy over Paris. It was colder than it had been all season, causing people to close their houses tightly and for most to stay indoors. There was no moon, making the city appear all the darker, its shadows as black as the spaces between the stars. A dog could be heard barking in the distance, along with soft-playing music. Smoke drifted from the chimneys of a few buildings in gray clouds, bringing with them an ashy scent. Paris seemed to have fallen into a bleak, fitful slumber.

Clopin observed this as he and Quincy jogged silently through the streets. He had his cloak on, the hood up to conceal his face. Quincy was a huge shadow behind him, but he was able to move surprisingly covertly for such a large man. They wound their way through the network of the city, heading to their destination.

Earlier that night Quincy had informed him that a gypsy woman, Jolie, had offered to be bait in a plan to help them learn more about the disappearing gypsies. Jolie had made it known throughout the Court that she was heading to a bar tonight, and Clopin and Quincy were to trail her and see what happened. If the traitor took the bait, then they expected soldiers to attack her, or something of that sort. If not, then they would have to re-evaluate their tactics.

Clopin knew there was a chance, however slight, that they really had no traitor at all. And if Jolie ended up not being attacked, well then, he would be very relieved. They would have a _different _problem on their hands then, but he preferred it to a betrayer.

Esmeralda had insisted on coming along, but he'd refused. Even Quincy and Jolie had refused. She was too young, and it was too dangerous. He promised her she could be there in spirit, to which she hadn't taken very enthusiastically. Clopin had a few gypsies promise to keep an eye on her while they were out.

The two slowed, seeing their destination up ahead. They could even make out the petite form of Jolie, sauntering down the long and narrow street toward the bar, the only source of light and sound in this area. They pulled around the side of one low building, hiding themselves in shadow.

"I'll keep watch from up there," Clopin whispered, gesturing to the roof. "You stay here. Give a signal if you see trouble, and I'll do the same." There were various signals among the gypsies, ranging from bird-mimicking whistles, animals calls, specific claps and snaps, or even hand gestures.

Quincy nodded. "Yes, sir."

Clopin turned to look up at the roof, judging the height of the jump. He didn't want to make any noise. He could perhaps get a running start and go up the wall and onto the roof. Or maybe he could drag that nearby barrel over closer and hop off of it. Then again, if he jumped just high enough, he might manage to grab onto the edge-

Quincy cleared his throat, leaning in close to the Gypsy King. "Do you need a boost, sir?"

Clopin pursed his lips, then turned to the man and nodded. "Yes, hurry."

Quincy held out his large hands, intertwining his thick fingers, and Clopin sat his foot in it, allowing his friends to push him up to the roof. The smaller gypsy quickly and silently got on top of the building. Staying low, he made his way to the center so he could better observe the street.

He watched Jolie taking her time heading to the bar, the buildings rising darkly over her. It was colder on the roof, and Clopin pulled his cloak tighter irritably. The breeze blew strands of black hair across his face as he kept watch, staying still and silent.

The minutes dragged by until Jolie was on the step of the bar. She glanced one in both directions, and then went inside. For her to spend any more time outside would look suspicious. Clopin settled in for a long wait, wondering how Quincy was doing. His gaze flicked to all the dark corners in view, but he couldn't make out anything.

It was about twenty minutes before Jolie exited the bar. In which the Gypsy King entertained himself by making up a song in his mind, counting the number of cracks he could see in the buildings, and thinking of Paris, his people, Esmeralda, who the traitor might be among them, and a little about gambling and women. The light from the open door blossomed and then faded as Jolie shut it behind her. She stepped out onto the streets, wrapping her arms around herself.

Clopin let out his breath, shaking his head. Were they wrong after all, then? Was there no traitor? He crept across the roof even with her, staying as low as he could. With each step she took he felt his hopes rise. Maybe the situation wasn't that serious.

Jolie was about to cross to another street when the soldiers pounced. They came from the shadows between two buildings, wearing all black and wielding only daggers. She staggered sideways as they wrapped their arms around her, covering her mouth with a cloth.

Clopin's adrenaline jolted, setting his body on fire. But outwardly he stayed absolutely still, quickly processing three courses of action in his head in less than a second.

He and Quincy could free Jolie and take the soldiers prisoner, bringing them back to the Court of Miracles. Then they could interrogate them and keep them locked up until they got a lead on their traitor.

Then again . . . Frollo would instantly suspect the gypsies were behind it and punish them anytime they set foot outside the Court. And there was no guarantee that the soldiers would confess anything.

He and Quincy could free Jolie and kill the soldiers. He liked that option very much.

Then again . . . if Frollo would be upset that two soldiers had been captured, he'd be furious if two were found dead. The gypsies would be in worse trouble any time they left the Court.

He and Quincy could free Jolie and run away.

_Merde. _He hated that option but it was the best. They had accomplished what they'd set out for. They knew there was a betrayer among their people feeding information to Frollo about single gypsies' whereabouts when they left the Court. How long, then, would it take for Frollo to learn the location of their lair?

Clopin sprinted the rest of the distance and leapt off the roof, landing next to Quincy. The large gypsy was staying hidden and tense, ready to take action when he saw an opportunity. Jolie was still struggling with the two soldiers, but they were succeeding in dragging her away.

Clopin met his friend's gaze. "Let's get her and go. No killing. No kidnapping."

"Darn."

"I know."

They both darted out onto the street. Quincy ran in front of the soldiers, knocking the dagger of one from his hands before beginning to pry him away. The blade hit the wall of building and fell the street with a metallic clanging.

As Quincy managed to get the first guard in his clutches, Clopin turned his attention on the second, who was still occupied with trying to control a kicking and scratching Jolie. Clopin cleared his throat loudly, smirking.

The guard dropped her and turned around, swiping his dagger out in one fluid movement. Clopin pulled his face back, the blade passing harmlessly an inch from him. He dropped down and swept the man's legs out. Jolie then delivered a kick to his side and the two began racing off. Quincy saw them and, dropping the soldier he was holding above his head, followed.

They hurried through the maze of stone streets, their footsteps barely making any sound. Buildings flashed by them, the windows dark and doors closed. A cat scampered away as they thundered past, still very much aware of their surroundings. But there was no pursuit.

Clopin got a few steps ahead of the other two as they entered run-down, vacant section of Paris. The cemetery was up ahead, its iron fence bent and rusted. Tombs stuck from the ground like crooked teeth, their surfaces stained and nearly unreadable. At the crest of a hill was a stone sarcophagus with a stylized cross on the side. A coffin was attached to it, and beneath the lid was the entrance into the Court of Miracles.

As they approached the cemetery, Clopin planted one hand on the fence and vaulted over it, Jolie doing the same behind him. Quincy took a little bit more time. They raced up the hill, looking around at the same time to be sure they weren't being followed.

Clopin was the first to reach the coffin, and he pushed the lid aside just enough to allow him to slip through. Jolie followed. Quincy pushed it nearly off to allow him to enter, then closed it behind the three of them.

They stood on the stairs for a moment, panting. Their breathing echoed back to them in the darkness. Clopin pushed his hood back, dusted himself off, and said, "Well, then. That was interesting."

There was the sound of rummaging around before Quincy lit a candle, its small light just enough to show their faces, the edges of the stone steps, and cast grisly shadows on the walls. The smell of wax began to permeate the area.

"So there really is a traitor?" Quincy said.

"It seems that way," Clopin sighed heavily. He turned to the petite woman. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Jolie assured. "I'm just glad to help. So what do we do now, sir?"

Clopin frowned, thinking for a moment. Then he said, "I need to tell everyone in the Court what's going on. This may put extra pressure on our cowardly-pathetic-ex-gypsy traitor and cause him or her to mess up. It'll also put everyone on alert. We'll be able to find him faster that way."

"I agree," Quincy nodded.

"'Course you do," the Gypsy King grinned. "Let's go."

They made their way down the stairs and into the catacombs. As they sloshed through the murky water, the candle flickering dangerously, a brighter light approached them from ahead and Esmeralda came into view.

"Clopin!" she gasped. "Quincy, Jolie! I'm so glad you're back!"

"You shouldn't doubt us, _chérie," _Clopin said.

"How did it go?" she asked. "What happened? Did you get hurt?"

"In order: fascinatingly, not much and then lots, and not at all. But in all seriousness," Clopin moved to walk side-by-side with her, "Jolie was attacked by Frollo's soldiers hiding in the shadows. We _do _have a betrayer."

Esmeralda's face fell. "I was hoping we were mistaken."

"I wonder why we're being betrayed," Jolie said. "What kind of reward could this person possibly be getting from this?"

"Once we find him," Esmeralda snarled, "his reward will be a few choice words and my fist."

"Yeah!" Quincy chimed.

"Same here," Jolie nodded.

"Great then," Clopin beamed, "we can all take turns beating him up!"

They left the catacombs and entered the Court of Miracles, the ceiling rising high above them and the walls stretching out. It was busy with activity, as it usually was, and full of color and life. Clopin bounded up onto the platform that overlooked the entire area. Esmeralda hovered at the foot of the stairs, Quincy and Jolie joining the front of the crowd.

"_Bonjour, _everybody!" Clopin called, his voice echoing. "Gather 'round! There's an announcement to be made!"

Attention was turned to him, the gypsies beginning to cluster around the platform. It was a mass of dark complexions, colorful clothes, and of all ages, shapes, and sizes.

Clopin looked over them all before continuing, "I have something quite shocking to tell you. Some of you may have heard the rumors. Those of you that haven't will be surprised. If you're prone to fainting, you may want to sit down."

This was met with nervous chuckles.

Clopin took a breath before saying, "We have a traitor among us." As the gasps and shouts began to rise, he continued loudly, "A fellow gypsy is selling out our people to Judge Frollo. Now-" He held up his hand and everyone slowly quieted, watching him. "I urge you all to remain cautious and be safe. Keep on alert for this traitor, and report any clues you may have to me. We don't want to spread unrest and mistrust around here, however, in the interest of preserving lives, we need to keep an eye out."

Esmeralda shook her head as she watched the crowd's reactions. So many. There were so many of them. And one was working for Frollo.

_Clopin was right, _she thought. _Sometimes, people do strange things_.

HOND

Avril sat on her grand bed, her legs folded under her and yellow dress piled around them. She was hunched over a sketch, patiently shading it and darkening certain lines. It was the woven band the gypsy girl had dropped last night. Avril couldn't seem to get it out of her mind, mostly because she didn't understand what it symbolized. And she felt that, if she found out, it would help her understand gypsies more.

She sat back, having finished, and stared at it pensively. Something seemed familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. The cross stood out boldly in the center, the blue string looping in an oval around it. The smaller, stylized cross sat off to the side. What did both of them stand for?

Avril wasn't one to brag, but she prided herself in her ability to draw. It was the one thing Bernard and Silvine complimented her on. And she supposed, for that reason, she had kept at it until she could mimic life quite well. It was only a mimesis, an imitation, but it was believable.

A knock sounded at her door, and her father's voice called, "Avril, your friends are here."

"Coming," she said, setting the page and drawing utensil aside. She smoothed out her dress, ran her fingers through her blonde hair, and stepped out into the hall alongside Bernard. "I'm ready."

"Don't be gone too long," he stated. "Try to act like a high-born young woman. And please don't embarrass your family."

"Yes, _Papa_," Avril muttered irritably, hurrying on down the hall before he could think of something else to say. She made her way into the foyer where Brigette and Gervais were waiting, both dressed finely.

"Finally," Brigette sighed. "I was growing bored."

Gervais smiled. "Good day, Avril. Ready to see where the elite of Paris shop?"

"I am," she replied, returning the smile. He offered his hand and she took it as they left her home and began walking through the streets.

Avril had been excited when Gervais had offered to show her part of Paris yesterday. She needed to become familiar with her new home, and hopefully become better friends with the Leveque twins. It would also give her a break from her up-tight parents. After her one night of brief freedom, being stuck in the house with them seemed all the more oppressive.

_Freedom, listen to me! _Avril scolded herself. _What I did was deplorable. If Mom and Dad found out, they'd probably disown me. _

Yet despite that knowledge, she honestly did not regret it. And now, walking through the streets, she found herself hoping more that they'd stay among the commoners rather than the rich.

Brigette, however, complained enough about the people until they reached the part of Paris Gervais was taking them to. She complained about the smell, the clothes, the crowds, and the "awful taste in fashion". Avril was glad Gervais kept up casual conversation so she wouldn't have to pay much attention to Brigette.

"And here we are," he sighed, gesturing in front of them. "Much better, isn't it?"

The elite part of Paris was cleaner, for certain. Avril noticed that immediately. There were less people, and all moved with more grace and self-control. There were beautiful clothes worn, and the items that were set in the shop windows were expensive and gorgeous.

Yet, Avril also noticed the way the men turned up their noses and the women scowled and smirked at each other. There was an air of detachment and aloofness among everybody.

"Would you ladies want some chocolate?" Gervais asked. "I hear the Spanish sent in a new shipment just the other day."

"But of course," Brigette stated.

Avril glanced back in the direction they had come from, the line between rich and common practically physical. She could see a brush of gaudy colorful clothes that belonged to the gypsies.

"Avril?" Gervais asked. "What are you looking at?"

She turned back. "Oh . . . I . . . was looking at some gypsies we'd passed."

"Pffft," was Brigette's response.

Her brother chuckled. "You seem to take an interest in them, don't you?"

"I . . . have just never seen people like them before," she said. "It fascinates me."

"Gypsies are hardly fascinating," Brigette stated.

But Gervais just gave her a warm smile. "Well, if you're that interested, I can tell you a little about them."

Avril felt a jolt of excitement go through her body. "Really?"

He laughed. "Sure. Since my uncle Frollo takes such an interest in them, I know more than anyone else you'd ask. Plus I know your fascination comes from a place of innocence."

Avril didn't necessarily like the condescension hinted at in his last statement, but ignored it. She wanted to learn about the gypsies. Brigette made her displeasure known by sighing loudly, but Avril continued, "What . . . do they do? Around Paris?"

"Simple jobs for money, mostly. They're performers. They also are fortune tellers and palm readers, though I don't put any stock in that. Some are beggars because of physical ailments."

Avril was no longer paying attention to the sophistication around them as they walked through the streets. Her mind was spinning with this information. "If they're . . . a minority group, do they all live in their own section of the city?"

"Rumor has it they have a safe haven in Paris they all live in. But it's well-hidden. No one has ever found it. Which frustrates my uncle, as you can imagine." He chuckled. "That's what it has always been about for him: finding the lair of the gypsies. They have a name for it. They call it the Court of Miracles."

_The Court of Miracles, _Avril repeated in her mind.

"And in there, of course, lives their king."

She shot him a surprised look. "Their king? They have a king?"

"Oh yes, the King of the Gypsies. Rumor has it that he's terribly frightful."

"Like a demon," Brigette added unexpectedly.

"And that's he's a very large, muscular, beastly man."

"Huge," Brigette piped.

"And that all the sins and immoralities of the world are rolled up into his being."

"Licentiously wicked," Brigette purred. She sidled up to Avril, resting her elbow on her shoulder, and gazed at her with half-lidded green eyes. "It makes you wish that you'll never speak of gypsies again for fear of arresting his attention, doesn't it?" She batted her eyes innocently. "Or that you want a knight in shining armor to protect you." At this she bumped her with her hip and sent Avril stumbling into Gervais.

Avril drew herself upright before Gervais could help her, blushing furiously at the insinuation and the girls' patronizing attitude.

"You've made yourself understood, Brigette," her brother said patiently. "No more talk of gypsies. Come now, let's have lunch."

HoND

Avril slumped wearily in her chair, a headache prodding at the edges of her mind. She scowled down at her plate overflowing with the finest foods, her reflection in the silver dish scowling back at her. The dining room around her was alive with the noise of people talking, bright with the orange sunlight pouring through the windows, and saturated with the smell of wine.

After spending a few hours with the Leveque twins, Avril had returned home to find her mother in an uproar because they had received a last-minute invitation to a dinner held by one of the wealthiest men in Paris, Percival. Bernard had argued, in Percival's defense, that the dinner had been planned for a month and they had been in Paris less than a week. Silvine insisted that they go and look their best. Which, for Avril, meant squeezing into a corset and receiving a lecture about acting like a sophisticated young woman.

Avril never understood those lectures much. The way her parents treated her, one would think she was prone to dancing on top of tables and starting fights. But Bernard and Silvine seemed to find it just as offensive that she looked unhappy all the time and that she wasn't sociable.

In truth, these sort of get-togethers had become less and less interesting for Avril. They were all the same. Everyone tried to outshine one another, everyone talked of either themselves or money, and everyone judged each other on the slightest of mistakes.

She knew if she had had trouble paying attention before, she _certainly _would now. Her mind was full of all she had learned about the gypsies. She began thinking of all the places in Paris that the Court of Miracles could be hidden in, what this Gypsy King was like, and what she would do tonight when she snuck out.

"Avril," Silvine snapped in a whisper, leaning close to her daughter, "look happy. Smile. Talk to people."

"About what?" she replied angrily, upset her thoughts were being interrupted.

"_Anything. _If you paid attention to the conversations and you'd be able to add your thoughts. Honestly." She pulled back. "You're embarrassing me."

Avril sighed, sitting up straighter and tuning in to the conversations around her.

Two women close by were shining with jewelry, chins held high as they spoke.

"My husband has struck it rich," one was saying. "He's such a _cheri. _I can predict with surety that we're going to have _twice _as much money as we did before."

The other woman looked frazzled. "Well, _my _husband's investments-"

Avril turned away from them with a roll of her light blue eyes. She looked to a husband and wife nearby.

"I know, I know," the man was saying. "I can't stand them either, you know. Why Percival invited them is beyond me."

"But look at her necklace!" the wife gasped. "I wore a necklace exactly like that _last _dinner, and now _she's _got one with two more diamonds! She's doing it on purpose, you know. They want to make us look like paupers."

Exasperated, Avril turned her attention to two men across from her.

"I know," one was chuckling. "Paris is getting overrun with peasants and gypsies. Though, I must confess, I'd rather have peasants than _gypsies."_

They both laughed, and the second said, "Luckily for us, Judge Claude Frollo hates them just as much. You just wait. He'll wipe out those bugs from the crevices of Paris."

Avril stood abruptly, causing a few people to look at her curiously. "I'm sorry,_ Mére," _she said to a gaping Silvine. "But I'm not feeling well and I must go."

Without waiting for the vehement protest, Avril stepped away from the table, left the dining room, and didn't look back.

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><p><strong>I know HoND doesn't get too much attention nowadays, since it came out years ago. And I know this story hasn't been up very long. However, Story Traffic tells me this IS getting plenty of views. The other website I have this posted on it gets lots of attention from. So, sorry, but I only write for people to read and enjoy. And if you don't review, I assume you don't enjoy it. I'll give it another week, but if I don't get reviews for this, I'm deleting it. There's no point in me posting it here if no one enjoys it. <strong>

**So, if you want me to continue to update and leave the story on this site, please review!**

**Sorry to sound blunt, but for an author it's not a good feeling when no one comments on your work. :(  
><strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry about the authors note last chapter, but for those of you who post stories on here, you know how it is. 8D So thanks to all of you who reviewed, and we'll see how it continues! **

**By the way, I went to the Renaissance Festival today (and yes, I was singing Topsy Turvy the whole way there) and it was amazing! I had a great time and bought some epic clothes! Plus I went through the Torture Chamber and Catacombs, and got a wee bit frightened, lol. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own HoND**

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><p><strong>CH. 4<strong>

Clopin paced in the small meeting room, lantern light flickering across his dark face. He stopped and turned abruptly, gravel crunching under his boots, and faced the three people before him. Placing his hands on his hips, he said, "I have a plan. Quite honestly, I have a magnificent plan."

Esmeralda shook her head, smiling. She was seated in a wooden chair to the side, wanting to hear his idea but not being one of the three gypsies he was going to ask to carry it out. Standing in front of the closed door was Quincy and a male and female gypsy. The sounds of the Court of Miracles was muffled, the smell of the lantern oil hanging in the air.

It had been a few days since Clopin had announced to the Court that they had a traitor. But still they had uncovered nothing. Some gypsies had come to their King with thoughts, but none was usable. He couldn't put blame on a person just under observation that they had been "acting weird". He needed more.

And yet, something had been bothering him. When they had put their plan with Jolie into action, she had left just a few hours after making it known where she was going. However, it seemed that was enough time for their betrayer to hear about her trip and get word out to Frollo. Clopin deduced that this traitor had to have a secret passage he was using. Something to allow him to get in and out fast and unnoticed.

But Clopin very well couldn't order everyone's rooms to be searched. For one, not everyone had rooms. Also, that would cause unrest among his people, and he didn't want that. Not anymore than there was already, anyway.

And then he had an idea.

"So," Clopin said, smiling. "Here's what's going to happen. We are going to have another gypsy make it known that they're going out and where they're going. Our traitor will have to then get word to Frollo somehow. Now, it's evident he's not using our main entrance, otherwise his behavior would be very suspicious. So he must have an alternative way in and out. Oriel," he turned to the robust gypsy woman, "I want you to keep a secret watch just outside of the cemetery. It needs to be a vantage point where you can see the whole place from. But make sure you're not seen."

"Yes, sir," Oriel nodded.

Clopin turned to the large, bulky gypsy, "Quincy, I want you to wait in the Court of Miracles. If Oriel sees someone using a secret exit from the Court, then you will search their room, area, or belongings for anything suspicious. Understood?"

"Yes," Quincy agreed.

The Gypsy King turned to the bearded, average-sized man, "Michel, I want you to wait with Oriel. If she sees something, you run the name of the person to Quincy so she can still keep watch. _Comprenez-vous?"_

"I do," Michel nodded.

Clopin clapped his hands. "Great! Any thoughts, Esmeralda?"

"I think it sounds good," she replied.

He flashed her a smile. "_Merci. _Now," he turned back to the three people before him, "night's about to fall. Get to your places. I'll have a volunteer pretend to be leaving the Court."

They inclined their heads and quickly left. Oriel and Michel wound their way through the throngs and into the catacomb tunnel. They didn't speak as they went past the piles of skeletons, the darkness thick around them. But they had the path memorized. Every gypsy did.

It wasn't long until they made it outside, climbing out of the stone coffin. Looking around to make sure no one was there, they closed the lid and made their way out of the cemetery.

The sun had just gone down, casting Paris in a twilight glow. The eastern horizon was a dark blue, its buildings shadows against it. The western horizon was a bloody orange that was slowly losing its vividness. The city was quieting down for the night.

Oriel led the way out of the graveyard and picked a large, thick tree just outside the rusted fence. She climbed up in the branches, Michel doing the same, and settled in a spot where she was well-concealed by leaves and shadows.

And then they waited.

Time passed slowly as Paris darkened around them. Stars blinked in the sky, a crescent moon slicing it open. Shadows fell upon the cemetery, making it seemed foreboding and bleak. And still Oriel and Michel waited, patient and unmoving.

And, at last, something happened.

A single flat grave shook, knocking some blades of grass from its top. It shifted to the side and a head peered out. The figure paused, checking that all was clear, and then climbed out.

"No way," Oriel whispered, leaning fractionally forward as Michel did the same.

The figure, a scrawny man, dusted himself off and made his way through the gravestones. He kept looking around nervously, but he never spotted the two spies. Once he reached the gate, he sprinted into the city.

"That was out traitor," Michel sighed. "We found him."

Oriel nodded. "Go tell Quincy. And then tell Clopin."

HoND

Avril wasn't sure whether to call it the worst day of her life or the best.

As she ran through the streets of Paris, the night wrapped about her like a cloak, she couldn't stop replaying the events of the day. It was full of intensity and emotional turmoil. Even now she felt tears burn at her opaque eyes.

The days after she'd walked out of the dinner had been tense. Her parents were angry with her. She kept sneaking out every night, each time staying longer. Those trips became her focus. It was what she had looked forward to every morning she awoke. She had begun to do some rough sketches of the people she saw. Of course, she hid any sketches of peasants and gypsies. Her parents would hate that. She often found herself returning to the sketch of the woven band, wondering what it meant.

There was a part of her that felt guilty. A part of her that felt like she was betraying her family. Her parents wanted the best for her. They wanted her to be one of the social elite. She had been eager to please her parents as a child. But as she became older, she had strayed from it more and more. She had questioned it more and more.

But now, in Paris, that questioning had been raised to a whole new level. Now she could see a part of life she'd only heard about before. She had never seen peasants, yet they walked the streets daily in Paris. She had never seen gypsies, yet they were a hot topic in Paris. And she would have never had the opportunity to sneak out back in the small, rural town of northern France she'd come from. But there were too many people here to pay her any notice.

In a way, she felt out of control. It was as if she had started something that she couldn't stop. If was as if she'd developed an addiction to being among the lower class. And every day she could feel herself slipping away from her rich way of life.

And, frankly, she no longer cared.

It was that morning that she'd gone with Brigette to her own home to have breakfast. Gervais had been there briefly, but he had errands to run. Avril found the Leveques' temporary home to be quite grand and beautiful.

Brigette had taken her up to her room, an area full of sunlight, lace, and jewelry. She had played an elegant tune on the piano while they talked, her auburn hair up in a bun.

"I am going shopping tomorrow for a new dress," Brigette had said, her fingers dancing over the white keys. "Goodness knows the ones I have are getting so old. I bought my newest a month ago, can you believe that? Of course you can't. I received a letter this morning from a dear boy back in our home city. His name is Andre. We've always been close friends, you know. But he was expressing how much he missed me. I do think he has developed feelings for me. And although I can't blame any man for falling in love with me – being as rich, beautiful, and sophisticated as I am – I do favor Andre. He's _ma cheri._" Here she had paused to glance at Avril's slumped, disinterested pose. "Avril Desmarais!"

She had started, turning from the window to her. "Yes?"

"That's very rude, you know. You'll need a miracle to get by in our society acting like that. People such as Percival, my parents, and the other rich around here won't tolerate it. You don't want to be an outcast, do you?"

"No," Avril sighed. "Sorry, Brigette. Go on. I'm just tired this morning."

Brigette stood, smoothing out her dress. "Let's get some fresh air, shall we? That will wake you up. Goodness knows you look as if you've never stepped outside in your life, poor girl. I suppose there's nothing you can do about it. Let's visit my uncle. He can always provide interesting company."

"I guess," Avril agreed, ignoring her insult. She hadn't gotten a chance to see much of the Palace of Justice when they'd fist arrived. Maybe Judge Frollo would give her a tour.

They had taken a carriage to the Palace of Justice, and Avril had to be content with just watching the activities of the city through the window while listening to Brigette tell her about Andre and returning home. They had at last made it to their destination, the Palace rising up menacingly from the surrounding buildings. Its spires attempted to pierce the clouds, and its dark windows stared across Paris.

They climbed their way up the large staircase and entered into the dark foyer. The smell of the torches filled the area, the only noise being their crackling, and two servants cleaning the floor. One greeted them upon their entry.

"Where is Judge Claude Frollo?" Brigette asked. "I'd like to speak to him."

"He's busy, _Mademoiselle," _the servant responded. "But I can tell him you're here and I'm sure he'll come down as soon as he can."

"That's acceptable."

Avril watched the servant hurry off, and then followed Brigette to one side of the large room. She stood before an ornate tapestry, and began to comment on the design, the origin, and how it applied to her education and future plans for a home.

All in all, Avril was growing very tired of listening to the Leveque twin talk about herself.

She looked across the foyer, seeing the double doors standing slightly open from the servant going through. She paused, considering.

_I could always pretend I got lost, _she thought. _Enduring her fury is better than listening to her praise herself so much._

Giving a moment to wish Gervais had come, Avril slowly sauntered off. Making sure that she wasn't in Brigette's peripheral vision, she made her way to the double doors and slipped through.

She was faced with a long stone hall. Cold bit at her, but she could see a torch some yards away. Glancing once behind her, Avril picked up her skirts and began walking.

She thought it was a rather dreary place, given that it was called a Palace. Everything was dark colored, and the torches were the only warmth. She passed a few halls and one staircase leading up, but she decided not to take any of them. She didn't want to _really_ get lost. She'd hate for Judge Frollo to find her and be angry. And she especially didn't want to accidentally walk in on anything pertaining to "justice", such as a trial.

She was just thinking she should turn back when she heard the sound of someone crying echoing down the stone corridor. She paused, frowning. There was a moment of silence before it came again.

Avril hurried in the direction of the noise, wondering if someone had gotten hurt. It sounded like a man, but not Judge Frollo. Perhaps a servant?

The crying got louder and Avril turned to a staircase descending down. She hesitated at the top step, questioning whether it was a good idea to go on. But then she decided that if it was her hurt and crying for help, she would want someone to come to her aid. If everything was fine, she could just turn back anyway.

The air grew colder as Avril descended the stairs. She trailed one hand along the rough stone while the other held up her skirt. The light was becoming increasingly dim, and she began to worry until at last a red glow blossomed ahead. Bounding down the last of the steps, she found herself in a long corridor bright with torches. There seemed to be several sections blocked off by stone walls, with iron doors in them. A metallic scent stung the air, and Avril at first couldn't place what it was until she saw dark red splashed across the floors and walls.

_Blood. _

She staggered sideways, placing her hand on the wall to steady herself. She looked to the rusted shackles hanging on the stone, and even one bloody handprint. Her breakfast threatened to come back up, and she placed one foot back on the step, ready to leave immediately.

"What's a matter, gypsy? Had enough already?"

Frollo's smooth, deep voice cut through the air. Avril stopped abruptly, her eyes looking in the direction it had came from. But he was apparently inside one of the "cells". She could make out flickering shadows against one wall, and assumed that must be him with some other person.

A man's rough laughter cut through the air. "Do whatever you want, Frollo. We both know how this will end."

"If you but tell me the location of the Court of Miracles, I will spare your worthless life."

Avril took a small step forward, squinting at the two shadows. She could see Frollo pacing, and the man – the gypsy – had his hands chained above his head.

"I won't betray my people."

Frollo chuckled. "Sadly, it seems that can't be said of all gypsies."

There was no response.

And then the sound of a whip cracked through the air. Avril jerked as if it had physically hit her, hearing the gypsy's cry of pain echo in the room. It seemed that they two had been at this for awhile.

"I'll give you one last chance, _vermin," _Frollo spat. "Tell me where the Court of Miracles is, or I will kill you."

Avril gasped, a cold feeling seeping through her stomach and closing off her throat.

"You'll kill me for not giving you information?" the gypsy laughed. "That's about as good of a reason as why you had me arrested."

"I don't need a _reason _to arrest a _gypsy!" _Frollo thundered. "You're very existence is a crime enough! And I plan to purge Paris of _all of you!" _There was a metallic hiss – the sound of a sword being drawn – and Avril watched as the Judge's shadow plunged the sword through the man's with a sickening squish. The man gave a strangled cry, went rigid, and then went limp.

Avril felt like the floor had dropped from underneath her. She dug her nails into the wall to prevent her from collapsing where she was. She didn't blink, didn't breathe, didn't move. She was even sure her heart stopped beating.

Frollo gave a sniff of disgust. "May you burn in Hell."

Avril turned on her heel and ran. She raced up the stairs, panting, sweating, trembling. Her mind was racing so much that she couldn't seem to pin down a thought. Her heart was thundering furiously, feeling as if it would burst from her chest. She felt so very, very sick.

She could barely remember running into the foyer and being confronted by Brigette. She thought she must have told her something about not feeling well and having to go home. It was all a blur. She ran from the Palace of Justice and through the streets of Paris. She could barely register all the people she passed, some reaching out to her and asking if she was okay. Was it that obvious? Was that sound her crying?

She didn't want to go home, but she didn't know where else to go. So she hurried into an alley and sat down behind a stack of crates. She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She blinked at the opposite wall, the tears in her blue eyes making it swim in her vision. Taking in a couple of shaking breaths, she dropped her face to her knees and bawled.

Avril wasn't sure how long she stayed there and cried. Long enough for all her tears to be shed, leaving her with dry, aching eyes. She walked the rest of the way home.

"Goodness, Avril!" Silvine gasped as she had come in through the front door. "Where _were _you? Brigette stopped by and said you had left feeling sick."

"I got lost," Avril said absently, just wanting to go to her room and sleep. She felt exhausted and emotionally blank.

Silvine put her hands on her hips, her beautiful face twisting into a frown. "Care to tell me what happened?"

"Nothing happened. I'm fine."

She tried to push past her mother, but she grabbed her arm. "Hold on. I need to speak to you about a couple of things. Come with me." She pulled her along into a small social room. The same one she had first met Gervais in. Silvine sat on one sofa, and Avril reluctantly sat on the other. She hoped whatever it was would go fast. She just wanted to sleep. She just wanted to forget.

"First off," her mother said, "you running off like that is unacceptable. Brigette probably thinks you have a mental sickness, and goodness knows what she told Judge Claude Frollo. Next time, try to remain dignified, will you?"

Avril rubbed her face, sighing in exasperation. Part of her wanted to tell her mother, another part didn't think it would matter. Would she comfort her daughter because of the horror of what she'd just seen? Or would she chastise her for wandering off? Would she understand that what had happened was horrible? Or would she think the gypsy deserved it?

Not even knowing what she was about to say, Avril began, "_Mére, _you don't understand. I-"

But whatever would have happened would remain unknown. Silvine interrupted, "You're right. I don't, and I don't care. Never act so uncivilized again."

"But-"

"Shush. Now, I wanted to talk about you and Gervais Leveque."

That caught Avril off guard. She blinked her sore eyes in surprise. "What?"

"Gervais Leveque, the brother to the girl you were just with. Can't you remember? Honestly, Avril."

"What about him?"

Silvine sat forward, folding her hands daintily across her knees. "He's a fine young man. Raised in a wealthy and affluent family. He's to inherent a large enough fortune to satisfy most anyone. I was thinking he would be a suitable husband for you."

Avril's jaw dropped open. "A . . . Gervais . . ."

Her mother made a dismissive gesture. "Really, dear, you can't pretend you haven't considered it. You've been spending time with him. He's handsome, in addition to everything else I listed. And you must consider that you're too old to live with us anymore. You need to make a home for yourself. Gervais is an excellent choice."

"But . . . the Leveques are leaving-"

"I'm sure something can be arranged."

Avril raked her fingers through her pale hair, feeling overwhelmed. "Mother, I need time to think about this."

Silvine rolled her eyes, but said, "I don't want to pressure you into anything. Family scenes are bad for a reputation. However, we can't have you waiting too long, or people will get suspicious. We also can't have you becoming an old maid. I will never live that down."

The dam of her emotions at last broke. Avril stood up, indignation burning through her veins and horror at the events in the Palace of Justice causing tears to build up in her eyes. "Listen to yourself! Why is it _always _about _you_? You don't want to pressure me so that _your _reputation isn't ruined. You don't want me to never marry because it will embarrass _you! _What about what _I _want? For once can you realize that there's more to life than worrying about what other people think?"

"_Avril-"_

"No! I'm sick of this house, I'm sick of this family, and I'm sick of the way we have to live!" She rushed past her mother and out of the room. She felt guilt at throwing such a child-like tantrum, but she quickly shoved it away. She raced up the stairs, her hands beginning to shake again, and hurried into her room.

Slamming the door shut behind her, she threw herself onto her bed and sobbed.

Avril lied on her bed, staring blankly up at her ceiling. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting her large room in darkness save for the silver moonlight. Silence hung about the area, and it was comforting.

She turned onto her stomach and reached for her drawing pages under the bed. Grabbing them, she laid them on the pillow before her. She took her stick of charcoal, ready to touch up her art. That was always comforting.

She flipped through the parchment until she found the drawing of the woven band the gypsy girl had worn. For what seemed like the hundredth time she started at it, wondering what it meant.

Notre Dame.

An interested smile tugged at her mouth as the cross in the middle made sense. That had to be Notre Dame, since it was in the middle of the island. And the island was signified by the blue band- the river. Avril had seen a few maps of Paris before they had moved here. That looked exactly like those maps had.

Then, what about the other cross?

_But it's well-hidden. No one has ever found it. Which frustrates my uncle, as you can imagine. That's what it has always been about for him: finding the lair of the gypsies. They have a name for it. They call it the Court of Miracles._

That was what Gervais had said, wasn't it?

She leaned closer to her drawing, her eyebrows knitting together as she studied it. Could the stylized cross represent the location of the Court of Miracles?

An idea jumped into her mind with such force and exhilaration that she physically jerked, her eyes popping wide.

If she could find the Court of Miracles . . .

If she could ask to stay . . .

If she could leave this behind forever . . .

"No," she whispered. She turned over on her back, covering her face. "I couldn't."

Could she?

Her parents . . .

_You're embarrassing me._

_ And your mother is right; act like a lady._

_Next time, try to remain dignified, will you?_

_ Try to act like a high-born young woman. And please don't embarrass your family._

Brigette and Gervais . . .

_Good gracious, Avril, what a naïve girl you are._

_ I know your fascination comes from a place of innocence._

_That's very rude, you know. You'll need a miracle to get by in our society acting like that._

The gypsies . . .

_It's terribly disgusting, the kind of foul peasantry you find in the city. You would have never seen that on our estate._

_ The gypsies aren't people._

_ Their crude dancing, raunchy songs, and penniless ways are a disgrace to all that is good and righteous in this world._

_ People might get the wrong impression. Like you're siding with the gypsies._

But why was that a bad thing? Why was it black and white? How could these people hate gypsies so much that they could produce someone like Judge Claude Frollo?

_I don't need a _reason_ to arrest a _gypsy_! You're very existence is a crime enough! And I plan to purge Paris of _all of you_!_

Avril bit back a sob. So wrong. It was so wrong.

What did she have here, anyway? Riches? All the commoners of Paris seemed to get along just fine without it. In fact, they even resented her for her wealth, althought it wasn't her choice. But how could she blame them? She herself disliked the aloof behavior of her parents, Brigette, and the rest of her social class. She was a disappointment to her parents. The only real friend she could claim now was Gervais, and even he was going to move.

What could she gain by finding the Court of Miracles and being with the gypsies? Perhaps the better question was, what did she have to lose? She wasn't happy. This wasn't what she wanted. She didn't know if the grass was really greener on the other side, but she could at least see for herself.

Knowing if she paused for even one moment she might lose her resolve, she had grabbed a bag, put some garments and her drawing supplies in it, changed into her cheapest clothes, and left through the window.

Avril was pulled from her memories of the day as she came to an old, bleak cemetery. She went up to the bars and looked through them, the hood of her cloak shadowing her face. The night had a slight chill to it, a light layering of clouds covering the sky.

She was about to pull away when a sarcophagus on the hilltop caught her attention. She looked more closely and saw the same stylized cross on its side.

Her heart leapt into her throat. She quickly entered the cemetery, making her way through the worn graves and up to the tomb. A breeze tugged at her cloak as she stood, regarding it. Her hair had worked lose of its curls, falling around her face. She was tired, but seeing this gave her more energy.

She glanced about to be sure she wasn't being followed. Then she made her way around the tomb, studying it. That was the same symbol. And if she was correct that it was the entrance to the Court of Miracles, then where did she go from here?

"It has to be hidden," she whispered. "C'mon, Avril, think."

She stared at it a moment, turning ideas over in her mind. Her gaze dropped to the coffin. An eyebrow rose.

Perhaps?

Going up to it, she grabbed the lid and pushed it a few inches aside, grunting with the effort. Wind came up from the darkness and greeted her. As she moved the lid wider, she saw a staircase descending down into darkness.

A jolt of excitement shot through her body. This was it. There was no going back.

Doing one last check to be sure she was alone, Avril stepped inside and entered the Court of Miracles.

**End of Part I**

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><p><strong>Sorry there's not much Clopin in this chapter. Not that ANYTHING is EVER more important than Clopin ( 3 ) but other plot points took priority this time!<strong>

**If you'd like me to continue posting this story on here, please leave a review! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for the reviews! This is one of those chapters I've been wanting to get to from the beginning and it was a joy to write! I hope you enjoy it as well!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own HoND**

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><p><strong>CH. 5 <strong>

**Part II**

The darkness of the catacombs under Paris was so thick it was almost physical. The water that ran along the bottom was gray-green and murky. Piles of corpses lined the sides, staring at any who passed with blank, black eyes. It was cold and smelled of rot and decay.

In essence, it was a place Avril never expected to be in, and certainly one she never wished to see again.

She wasn't sure if the group of large, sneering gypsies and their torches made it better or worse. She hadn't gone very far in the catacombs before she was ambushed. Initially she was quite relieved. She had been considering turning back. Not only because of the chill of fear that had crept over her, but because she didn't want to get lost. But then they had tied her hands behind her and had grabbed her arms tightly with their thick, calloused hands. They had then proceeded to drag her through the tunnels, the torchlight creating yellow lines in the water and making the skeletons seem twice as many due to the bony shadows behind them.

Avril had at first repeated that she came in peace and was unarmed, and that she wanted to speak to their king. They had simply laughed, not bothering to make conversation with her. They seemed to know exactly what they were doing, so she contented herself to just wait and hope she didn't end up dead.

_Ugh, what was I thinking? _she scolded herself. _Did I honestly believe I could just waltz into the Court of Miracles without any hindrance? This is their most sacred place, after all. _

She hoped she at least looked harmless enough. Her cloak's hood had fallen back, her shoulder-length blonde hair bouncing with their rough movements. She began to wonder what the Gypsy King looked like. Gervais and Brigette had painted quite a terrifying picture of him. A monster of a man, hideous, with all the sins of the world carried inside him.

_Good gracious, what have I gotten myself into? _

She was relieved when the water receded and they traveled away over stone. Her shoes were cold and wet, and squished with her steps. It wasn't long until she felt warmth and saw light blossoming up ahead. There was a steady buzzing noise that slowly turned into a multitude of conversations as they entered the Court of Miracles.

Avril felt her breath leave her as she looked over the area. They were up on a higher level, and it gave her an excellent view of the Court. It was frenetic and active, full of a variety of colors and decorations. She could smell meat cooking, and heard music playing, children laughing, and even a few dogs barking.

Overall, it wasn't very frightening.

She lost her optimal view as the gypsy guards led her down the stairs to the main floor. She glanced up once, and saw two nooses to hang people from.

On second thought . . .

They reached the bottom, and she was surprised that not very many people paid attention. Some glanced over in interest, others scowled, and still others ignored them altogether. They made their way to the side of the main area, and Avril could see halls and blanket-covered thresholds branching from it. She was still taking in the entire lively scene when she realized that they were heading toward two people standing near the corner.

One was a lovely young gypsy girl. Avril thought she looked very much like the gypsy she'd seen the woven band on. But then again, it was night and the glimpse had been brief. She could be mistaken. Luckily, when the two turned at their approach, the girl didn't seem to recognize her. She simply raised one elegant eyebrow and crossed her arms.

The person she was speaking to, a young man, looked over the guards and then at her. He was quite handsome, and it made Avril wonder if perhaps he and the pretty girl were related. He had inky black hair that stuck out from under a wide hat and a beard covering his chin. The light glinted off the single earring he wore, which mirrored the gypsy girl's. He was shorter and slender, and his dark eyes sparkled with amusement as he surveyed Avril.

"A trespasser," one of the gypsy guards stated. "We caught her in the catacombs. She's unarmed, and was only carrying a bag with some extra clothes and drawing pages."

The two exchanged glances.

The slender gypsy turned to fully face her, crossing his arms. "Well, then, _chérie, _what are you doing in the Court of Miracles?"

She frowned at the way he had addressed her, but tilted her chin up confidently and said, "I wish to speak to your king."

There were chuckles from the guards, causing her face to redden.

His gaze appraised her, his eyes still sparkling as if he was about to laugh at a joke. "_Mademoiselle, _you really need to get out in the sun more. You look like an angel of death. If the light was brighter in here, the reflection from your skin might just blind me."

This brought some laughs, and Avril gritted her teeth together, snapping, "I don't tan, I burn."

"That's unfortunate."

"I demand to speak to the King of the Gypsies and plead my case. I have not come to fight."

He tilted his head to the side and opened his mouth to reply when a huge, bulky gypsy came jogging up. Avril found the large man frightening. He towered over everyone else, and was bald with a gold tooth, scars on his arms, and a large belly that was barely contained by his tucked shirt. His voice was loud as he addressed the handsome gypsy, "Sir, we found our traitor! We have him in a cell on the west side."

The smaller man gave a quick nod. "Alright, I'm coming." He turned to the guards. "Put her in a cell on the east. I'll deal with her later."

Clopin watched as the guards began to drag the young woman away – who looked distraught and as if about to protest – before following Quincy through the Court. Esmeralda jogged up to his side, keeping pace.

He looked down at her, arching an eyebrow. "And what do you think you're doing?"

"Coming," she stated, as if it was obvious.

"Oh, no. I don't want you around this."

She put her hands on her hips. "Clopin! You have to let me come. I _want _to come. Quincy, can't I come?"

The large gypsy looked between the two nervously. "Uh . . ."

"Fine, fine," Clopin sighed. "You always end up getting your way in the end, anyway."

She smiled brightly. "That's just because everyone loves me so much."

Quincy led them through the main area of the Court of Miracles and down a narrow stone passage. He carried a torch to cut through the darkness until they came upon a square space with a few feet blocked off by bars. It was a rather crude job, but it was effective. Three small cells lined the back wall, and in the middle one was their traitor.

Clopin walked up to the bars, gazing down at the scrawny gypsy. Quincy stood to one side and a step back, holding up the torch for their only source of light. Esmeralda mirrored him on Clopin's other side, her arms crossed tightly. Four guards stood at the back wall, their weapons out and watching with interest.

Clopin knew who their traitor was, though he couldn't say he was friends with the man. The gypsies all considered each other family; still, there were so many of them that it was impossible to keep in constant contact with everyone. The man's name was Lucien. As far as Clopin knew, he was an introverted gypsy who peddled for money and had no enemies. He wasn't special or interesting in any way, and because of that he was easily forgotten by those that weren't close to him. For those that were, there were no complaints. He was generally known to be a quiet, polite man.

And now he'd forever be known as the traitor gypsy who was responsible for deaths.

Esmeralda took her green eyes from Lucien, who was huddled at the far side of the cell watching them, and looked to Clopin. She almost started with surprise. The hint of laughter that was always in his eyes was completely gone. There was no smile on his features. He looked serious, dark, and passively angry.

After a long length of silence had gone by, Clopin's voice broke it, echoing in the stone room, "Why did you betray us?"

Lucien shook his head, his expression a mix of fear and bitterness. "Why are you here, Clopin? Come to make me feel guilty before you kill me? Want to have a chance to yell at me?"

The Gypsy King's brows lowered over his eyes, a line forming between them. "I'm here to give you a chance to tell us your side of the story. There's no question that you won't be alive by the end of the night, but if you want to give us your reasons, then do so."

Lucien glanced angrily to the side, his short brown hair messy and dark eyes emotional. He looked back up and snapped, "I'm sick of it! I'm sick of all of it! I hate that I have to go hungry, or wear ripped shirts for months. I hate that I have to beg for money so that I can stay alive. _Merde _I hate everything!" He stood up, grasping the bars so roughly they shook. The guards and Quincy started, but Lucien didn't make any move to attack their King. For his part, Clopin didn't even flinch, holding the man's gaze steadily.

"I was caught by Frollo one day for stealing," Lucien stated, his face looking fevered. "I was going to be put to death. So I made a deal with him. A deal both of us found mutually beneficial."

"You son of a-" Esmeralda snarled, but Clopin cut her off by holding up his gloved hand.

"You made a deal with the devil," Clopin stated, his voice strangely calm. "You saved your life in exchange for killing others'." His expression darkened. "So much for us all being a family, hmm?"

"It wasn't just that," Lucien said, his knuckles white with the force of his grip. "I agreed to give Frollo the location of any gypsy I knew of leaving the Court at night so long as he paid me for my information. And he paid quite handsomely, too. I've been saving the money, and I was going to use it leave this place and get a better life! To become rich and have my own home and horse! To not have to beg for money anymore."

Clopin suddenly shot forward, grabbing the bars with ferocity. He brought his face close to them, snarling, "You assisted in the murders of gypsies for _money_? Have you gone _mad? _You're so shallow that all you can think of is your own suffering, and completely ignore that we're all going through the same thing! You don't see any of _us _betraying our friends to Frollo!"

"This may be enough for you, Clopin, but it's not for me," Lucien spat. "I want more."

_"We all want more! _That doesn't mean we're going to get it, or that it's worth killing others for! You tell me," he leaned closer, "did you tell Frollo the location of the Court of Miracles?"

There was a moment of suspended silence as Lucien smirked through the bars at their King. Then he said, "No. We agreed I'd tell him the location once he paid me a huge sum of money. I think he was hoping that I'd eventually give in by his payments for the gypsies, but I'm patient. Looks like he'll never get that information though, will he?"

Clopin paused, holding the man's gaze before saying simply, "No. He won't." He stepped back and said to the guards, "Kill him now."

Lucien didn't even try to resist as two guards came up to his cell, gripped him through the bars, and ran their swords through his middle. They pulled their blades out and he collapsed, red blood spreading across the stones.

"Go spread the news that our traitor is dead," the Gypsy King told the guards. As they left, he leaned back against the wall, staring blankly at Lucien's body. Quincy and Esmeralda watched him quietly for a moment before Esmeralda bounded up to him, capturing him in a hug. He returned the embrace, resting his chin on her head.

Quincy watched them both, holding the torch, and then looked over at the corpse. That was taken care of, at least. And he hoped that would be the worst of their troubles for a time.

HoND

Avril sat leaning back against the stone wall, watching the two guards as they played a game of cards. Her cell was small and dirty. The bars were rusted and it smelled of decay. The only source of light was two torches hooked on the wall. There were two empty cells to either side of her.

Avril was glad they had cut her hands loose. The ropes had begun to chafe. She pulled her knees close to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She felt so very, very out of place. All the gypsies had dark complexions and hair. With her milk-white skin and pale blonde hair, there was no way she could blend in smoothly. She had chosen her oldest, most worn dress to wear. Yet still that looked much more expensive than anything the gypsies had on.

She sighed, dropping her chin to her knees. _What have I gotten myself into?_

She wondered when the attractive gypsy would come to speak to her, like he had said he would. He was obviously someone of authority, for her captors to take her to him and for that monster of a man to report to him about some traitor. Still, she would rather speak directly to the King. She had rehearsed her speech hundreds of times, and mocked conversations in her mind. She hoped they would accept her. At the very least, she hoped they wouldn't kill her.

The door opened and the slim gypsy at last came. He glanced once at her, then said to the guards, "You can go. I think I can take her."

They laughed and began talking about their next meal casually as they left the room, closing the door behind them.

Avril stood up, smoothing out her dress. She held her chin high as the man approached the bars and leaned against them. "_Monsieur-"_

He held up a hand, interrupting, "I'll do the talking around here. And you will answer my questions truthfully or else I might be tempted to hang you. Understand?"

She hesitated, then sighed and nodded. "Very well."

"What's your name?"

"Avril."

He nodded, the torchlight creating fiery streaks across his black hair. "And how did you find the Court of Miracles, Avril?"

She glanced down nervously. "I . . . saw a woven band that a gypsy dropped. I sketched it out and had been studying it for awhile. I've seen overhead maps of Paris, so I figured it out."

He pursed his lips, looking irritated, but not at her. "That's interesting. So what did you hope to accomplish by coming here?"

Avril paused, tucking her hair behind one ear nervously.

"Listen, _chérie, _this is the most sacred place of the gypsies. It's our only safe haven in Paris. For someone to walk in here makes us nervous. For someone to walk in here that was actually _looking _for the Court of Miracles is something we take very seriously. So unless you can provide me with an innocent explanation, I'm going to assume you came here to spy and murder my people and I'll have you hanged. Now," he leaned closer to the bars, giving a crooked smile, "care to explain?"

Gathering her courage, she met his dark eyes and said, "My parents hate me. Everyone else in my social class thinks I'm awkward and unfit. The only friendship I've made in Paris is temporary. I'm alone, I'm unhappy, and I've run away to the Court of Miracles hoping you would be so kind to give me a chance for a new life."

Avril was impressed with herself. She had delivered with steady conviction. She held herself confidently as silence stretched out, waiting for his response and wishing for the best.

He started laughing.

Avril's mouth opened in shock as he dropped his head to the bars, his shoulders shaking as he laughed. She felt indignation burn at her face and eyes. She crossed her arms, gritting her teeth. "What is so funny?"

He looked up, a large grin across his face. "_You, _some rich, high born girl – and it's evident in your dress, the way you speak, and the way you carry yourself – think you have a poor, pathetic, unwanted life and so you've come to join the _gypsies?_ Do you have _any _idea what it is you're asking?" He paused, waiting for her response, and saw tears start to brim in her eyes. Struggling to suppress a smile, he said, "Sorry, sorry. _Désolé, Mademoiselle. _I've just never heard something like that before."

Trying to stop her voice from wavering, Avril snapped, "I know I seem naïve to you. I know you probably think I'm a spoiled brat who just wants to rebel. But I have other reasons, sir. We've only recently moved to Paris, and I've never seen peasa-commoners before. Nor gypsies. My parents always told me horrible things about the lower class."

"Come to see for yourself, have you?" he asked.

"Somewhat. I . . . snuck out a few nights and walked among the commoners. I didn't find any truth in what my parents and others have told me. In fact, I thought the commoners had a better attitude than the rich. And I . . ." she swallowed. "I was looking through the Palace of Justice and saw Judge Claude Frollo . . . I saw him torture and kill a gypsy for no reason. He just hated him because of his race."

The man's expression darkened, and for a moment she regretted telling him that. But then he said softly, "I was wondering what Frollo was doing with all the gypsies he was arresting. Why we never see them again. But I guess it's pretty obvious. Just outright killing them, huh?"

Avril's own voice was soft as she said, "I'm sorry."

He gave a small nod. "We've found and executed the traitor that was assisting in this. Still, Frollo's hate for us won't stop."

She moved closer to the bars, feeling slightly more comfortable around him. "When he was torturing the gypsy, Judge Frollo was asking about the location to the Court of Miracles. I've heard that's what he wants most."

"Yes. Imagine-" He paused, suddenly narrowing his eyes suspiciously at her. "Hold on. You just moved to Paris, yet you know about Frollo, you were inside the Palace of Justice, and you saw him torturing someone?"

Avril felt offended, though she knew his distrust was rightly placed. After all, he said they had had a traitor. "My parents felt it was their duty to formally announce themselves into Paris. We had to meet with the Archdeacon and the Judge. Frollo's relatives are over, and I met his niece Brigette and nephew Gervais. They told me about him. I was touring the Palace of Justice with Brigette and wandered off on my own when I saw him torturing the gypsy."

He studied her for a moment, lifting one hand to rest his chin in. The torchlight glinted off his single gold earring, its crackling a background hum.

"I know why you don't trust me," she said. "But I assure you I'm not here to spy or betray you. I just want a new life."

"You think your situation will be better if you join the gypsies? We have next to nothing, little rich girl. This is our home. We share space, food, and supplies. We don't have money just handed to us. We have to earn it. Or . . . get it in less than respectable fashions. We are persecuted. Every time we leave the Court of Miracles, we risk being arrested by Frollo, and the worst-case scenario is that he kills us." He dropped his hands to grab the bars, looking at her seriously. "Is that what you really want?"

She brought her own hand up, gripping the rusted metal bar meeting his gaze with just as much conviction. "You have freedom. That is something I don't have and will never have if I stay where I am." She swallowed, but it wasn't from indecision. In fact, she felt surer than she had when she'd crawled out of her window. But she knew once she said this, she'd have to stick to it. She didn't know if she was ready for an entire change of life, but she did know it was what she wanted. "Yes, I am."

His dark eyes moved contemplating over her face before he smiled. "Very well then, _chérie." _He grabbed the keys from his belt and unlocked the door. He pulled it open, the hinges squealing, and stepped aside.

Avril took a deep breath. It was done. There was no going back. She felt excited and terrified, ready and unsure, happy and sad all at the same time. She felt so much that she didn't know what to feel. She hesitated before stepping across the threshold, then favored him with a smile.

"It seems I haven't introduced myself," he stated. He took a step back and swept his hat off, bowing at the waist. "My name is Clopin Trouillefou and I am the King of the Gypsies. Allow me to formally welcome you to the Court of Miracles."

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><p><strong>If you'd like me to continue, leave a review and tell me so!<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own HoND**

**Rated T for violence, torture, language, and sensuality**

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><p><strong>CH. 6<strong>

Esmeralda didn't like the situation.

A crisis had been averted. The traitor had been caught and killed. He had hurt people, but at least he had been stopped before the location of the Court of Miracles could be bought.

But now . . . this? This rich young woman shows up on the very same night their traitor is stopped, claiming she hates her life and wants a new beginning with the gypsies? It was flat out suspicious and Esmeralda couldn't help from crossing her arms, pursing her lips, and narrowing her trademark green eyes as she watched the girl, Avril, descend the platform steps with Clopin after his address to the gypsies. He'd formally announced Lucien's death and related everything he'd told them. Then he'd introduced Avril, talked about her situation, and otherwise hinted that she was under his protection in the Court of Miracles and no one better give her a hard time, attack her, or kill her.

Esmeralda was glad Avril looked worried. She was hovering close to Clopin as he singled out one plump, middle-aged gypsy woman and began talking, gesturing to Avril. She wondered how their talk had gone. Obviously well enough for him to let her out. But Esmeralda intended to have a private conversation with Clopin. She trusted him; she trusted him with her life. As did all the other gypsies, although they were watching with speculation. But Esmeralda had never been one to keep her worries to herself.

As the gypsies began to disperse, the noise of conversation rising, Esmeralda made her way through the people and over to Clopin.

"I'm sure you can find something," he was saying to the woman.

"Oh, yes!" she nodded vigorously. Esmeralda recognized her as Fifi, a motherly gypsy who was kind hearted and well-liked. "I'll take the dear to our storage room and see if we can't find some clothes for her. Of course," she sighed, glancing over Avril's dress, "it won't be as pretty as what you have on."

Avril shook her head. "Oh, no. I want to dress like a gypsy."

Fifi beamed. "Very well, follow me." As she wrapped her arm around Avril and proceeded to pull her away, she called over her shoulder, "We'll come show you when we're done, Clopin! You won't even recognize her!"

He grinned after them, then turned his attention to Esmeralda. "Yes?"

She jerked her head in the direction of the disappearing Fifi and Avril. "Do you trust that girl?"

"Not entirely. She comes in here the same day we stop Lucien?" He shrugged one shoulder. "Very suspicious. However, I'm not going to be responsible for murdering an innocent, distraught, lonely person who came to us for help."

"As unlikely as that sounds," Esmeralda added, raising an eyebrow. But then she sighed, her fire dwindling. "But I'm always against judging people based on appearance. Just because they're different from you. So this Avril shouldn't be an exception."

Clopin's grin stretched wider. "You were always good about that. Besides, I'll have her kept under constant watch. If I'm not with or around her, I'd like you or some other gypsy to keep an eye out. And she's not allowed to leave the Court of Miracles unless it's with me."

"That sounds fair. At least until we judge if we can trust her." She gave a half-laugh. "She certainly looks harmless enough."

HoND

Avril paused in awe as Fifi led her through a wooden door and into the storage room. It was huge and rectangular, stretching out before her like a grand hallway. The ceiling was high and arched, and torches sat at intervals. It was quite dark, but Fifi quickly lit a lantern to give them more light. And piled against the walls, spread across the floor, and stacked on top of each other was junk.

Or, at least in the condition all of it was in, it looked like junk. But Avril reminded herself that all this was usable to the gypsies. She saw trunks overflowing with old clothes, items of torn furniture, dirty blankets and sheets, a couple of lop-sided beds, instruments with missing strings, books with the binding breaking, bags with torn straps, saddles, carts, wheels, shoes, jewelry, and everything in between.

"There's so much in here," Avril said as she followed Fifi into the room.

"Yes, this is where we keep things we don't immediately need or want. But it's free for any gypsy at any time." She scurried over to a smaller trunk and pushed it open, rummaging through the clothes. "I think blue, don't you, dearie? Blue seems like a good color for you."

"Anything is fine," Avril said, still taking it all in. Her eyes caught sight of a piano sitting to the side. She gasped and ran over to it. "A piano! Is it in working condition?" She touched a key softly and smiled when a pure note rang out.

Fifi glanced back at her. "Yes, it is. But none of us know how to play the piano, so it just sits back here. Do you, honey?"

"My parents wouldn't rest until I learned," Avril laughed.

"Well, we'll have to see if we can get this thing cleaned up and have you entertain us someday."

Avril was nervous at the thought of playing for all the gypsies, but was happy that she'd at least be useful in some aspect.

"Here!" Fifi smiled. "Let's have you try these on."

HoND

Clopin leaned back against the wall, one foot crossed over the other, and looked through the pages of Avril's drawings he'd taken from her bag. One black eyebrow arched. They were very good.

He was standing inside a small room, the entry covered by a yellow sheet. A lantern sat on a small wooden table and a low bed sat against the back wall. He'd picked it out to be Avril's room. He'd didn't think she'd be comfortable living and sleeping out in the open of the Court, nor would any other gypsy, most likely. Coincidentally, his own room was just a few feet away. So if she tried to sneak off in the night, he had the chance of hearing her.

He came to the drawing of the woven band Esmeralda carried and shook his head. He'd decided against telling her that that was the reason Avril had found them. Esmeralda would feel incredibly guilty, and he didn't want that.

"Clopin?"

He looked up at the sound of Fifi's voice, the plump woman peering in. "Yes?"

"I have your newest gypsy!"

She stepped aside, holding back the sheet, and Avril became visible, smiling shyly. She was dressed in multiple layers of different shades of blue, from a soft sky blue to a midnight blue. Skirts fell about her legs and her feet were bare. Her sleeves ended at her elbows, and gold bracelets looped around her wrists. A scarf was hooked around her neck and a few gold chains adorned with coins hung around her hips. A lumpy hat was perched on her head that was too big, shading her eyes.

Clopin turned to fully face her, grinning. "That's much better, thank you, Fifi."

"Oh, it's my pleasure! She's a sweet girl." Here she turned to the said young woman. "If you ever need anything, sweetie, just come see me."

"I will," Avril nodded.

As Fifi left, Clopin gestured to the area. "This, _Mademoiselle, _is your room."

Avril looked at it with new eyes, stepping inside. "This is mine? Really?"

"Sure. Mine is just a few feet to the right, if you need anything. But I hate to be disturbed when I'm sleeping."

She took her eyes from the small but somehow cozy room around her to the parchments he was holding. "Are those my drawings?"

"Yeah." He held them out to her, gesturing to the bag next to her bed. "Here's your things back. Your art is quite good."

"You . . . looked through them?"

"Of course. Don't act offended. What else is the purpose of making art if not for others to see? Any other talents you possess?"

She eyed him, seeing that he was still leaning comfortably against the wall, palpably with no intent of leaving yet. Not that she entirely minded. She didn't have anything else to do, and since this was the Gypsy King it was good for them to get to know each other. Plus she was somewhat fond of him. Still, she was a bit overwhelmed and thoroughly exhausted. The bed was looking very inviting.

"Not really," she answered, crouching down by her bag and putting the pages back in it. "You could say drawing is the one thing I do that's actually good."

He nodded. "Should we expect anyone to come looking for you?"

Even though she was done putting her art away, she hesitated in her crouch, staring past the bag. "No . . . Not here, at least. They'll be looking for me, but they'd never expect . . . they'd never guess . . . No."

He tilted his head to the side. "Really?"

She stood up, smoothing out her haphazard clothes - mostly from habit. "My parents and I were never that close. I have no siblings. All my friends are on the other side of France."

Clopin could see the hurt in her pale blue eyes, so he changed the subject. "Do you like your new clothes?"

She laughed. "I do. Though I feel like everyone can hear me walking around with all this jewelry on."

He flashed a grin, then stood up straight. "Well, it's in the late hours of the night, and I'm tired. I'll see you later."

She nodded. "Goodnight, Clopin."

He exited her room, pulling the sheet closed behind him. He looked to the side to see Quincy just where he'd requested him, standing a few feet away in guard position. Clopin jerked with his head toward Avril's room. "Guard for a couple of hours, will you? Then you can have someone relieve you."

"Yes, sir," Quincy nodded.

HoND

Avril dreamed she was lost in the catacombs, struggling to find her way into the Court of Miracles. The murky water was much higher, lapping at her hips. She had a torch, but for some reason it couldn't provide much light. The sounds of the water sloshing kept echoing back to her, the skeletons seeming all the more numerous.

"Avril?"

She started, looking frantically around at the sound of her mother's voice. And then she saw Silvine and Bernard up ahead, moving much easier through the water and with scowls on their artful faces.

"Avril Desmarais!" Bernard snapped. "What are you doing here?"

Avril was flabbergasted. How had they found her? Hadn't they been asleep?

"What do you think you're doing?" Silvine snarled. "Why are you abandoning your family?"

"I'm not happy, Mom!" Avril shouted, backing away from them. "I'm leaving."

"And where to?" Bernard demanded.

_Don't tell them, _Avril thought. _Then they'll know where the Court of Miracles is, and they'll tell Judge Frollo! _

But Bernard continued, "Why are you joining the gypsies? Have you fallen to sin, child? Have you lost your mind completely? I thought I raised you better than that."

"They're not monsters, _Papa!" _Avril shouted. "They're people, just like you and me."

Silvine turned up her dainty nose. "You disappoint me, Avril."

"No, Mom, you don't understand! Frollo-"

"Did what?"

Avril spun around at the foreign voice, seeing Judge Claude Frollo wading through the water toward them. His slender hands were clasped in front of him, his hat casting his face into shadow.

Avril turned on her parents. "You brought him _here?" _

"We want to save you, daughter," Silvine said.

Avril pointed a finger accusingly at the minister of justice. "He's evil! You don't know what he's done! I saw him-"

"What do you think you can say now, Avril?" Frollo said, moving ever closer. "You're with the gypsies. No one will trust you. No one will care about what you think. You are the enemy."

Avril tried to back away, but for some reason couldn't move. Frollo kept coming closer, and then she noticed his hands were stained with blood. Panic seized her as she struggled to get away. Her torchlight was growing darker.

"Come back to us!" Silvine said.

"Come home!" Bernard shouted.

"_Where are the gypsies?" _Frollo's voice echoed all around her.

Avril screamed.

And then awoke.

She sat up in bed, breathing hard. Her pastel blonde hair was clinging to her forehead with sweat. She pushed it back, letting out her breath heavily, and then dropped back into bed.

"What have I done?" she whispered.

HoND

Clopin peered around the corner of the market, checking for any guards. He couldn't see any immediately. He wondered how long of a window he'd have until they showed up.

"I don't want to do this."

He irritably pulled back and turned to Avril beside him. The young woman was currently pressed against the wall and pulling down the hood of her cloak as far as she could. Even with that she kept glancing around nervously.

"Relax," he whispered. "No one will recognize you. You're dressed like a gypsy, and even then you are hidden in your cloak. Well-hidden, I might add. People may wonder if there's anything in there at all."

"But my parents-"

"Will be searching for a sophisticated looking young lady in a nice dress, with her hair curled, probably looking lost. Or maybe a poor victim in the clutches of some criminal." He winked at the irritation that forced its way through her worry. "It will be fine."

"I don't know."

He sighed, looking about the bright, sunny market alive with activity. "If it makes you feel better, tell me what they look like and I'll watch, too."

She seemed to take a measure of comfort from this. "My dad has brown hair he keeps smoothed back, and he doesn't have any facial hair."

"How unstylish."

"My mom has blonde hair. And, goodness, she's just beautiful. She looks like an angel."

"Alright."

"But you should also be looking for Brigette and Gervais, Frollo's niece and nephew. They're twins, with auburn hair. Brigette looks snooty. Gervais just looks normal."

He crossed his arms, his own dark purple cloak keeping his performing outfit temporarily concealed. "Wow, thanks. Those descriptions narrow these folks down to about _half _the people in Paris." When he saw her look of anxiety intensify, he patted her shoulder. "It will be fine. Trust me. I won't let you get caught. So long as you don't let me get caught."

"Right," she nodded, drawing herself up. "Watch for the guards. If I see any coming, give you a signal."

"Exactly." He peered round again, spotting the perfect spot on the edge of a large stone fountain carved with angels. He glanced back at her. "Show time!"

Avril watched him dart around the corner and vanish into the crowds. Keeping her head down as far as she could, she shuffled into the circular market space and took a set of stone steps up into a veranda that overlooked the area. Flowers in two vases sent off a floral aroma that offset the heavy scent of food and sweaty people. It was irritatingly noisy, but Avril ignored it. Sleeping through the almost constant noise of the Court of Miracles had begun to harden her to that condition. Not that she had gotten much sleep, anyway.

She leaned on the stone railing, glancing about again to be sure. But no one was around she knew. No parents. No friends. No Frollo.

"Hello there, darlings!"

Clopin's distinctive voice sounded out through the market, drawing her attention back. She smiled as she saw him standing on the edge of the fountain, the water glittering in the sunlight, in his colorful performing outfit. She remembered when he'd walked in with it on that morning, the bells jingling with each step, and the dark magenta mask accentuating his eyes. She'd playfully told him that he looked ridiculous, but there was something about the clothes she liked. Perhaps because it was just so bold that it seemed to show that the wearer was completely confident in himself. He wanted to be seen, and knew he could put on a good show.

On that note, Avril had listened to him brag all the way out of the Court of Miracles on his performing skills. It made her notice the stark contrast between him talking about himself and Brigette. Brigette's had been . . . vain and condescending. Clopin's was almost playful. Good-natured. He seemed to just want to have fun.

And Avril couldn't deny that she was impressed. Almost instantly attention turned to him, many people even coming closer to watch him. Those that seemed to recognize him were already depositing money in the bag by his feet.

That made a feeling of sadness wrench at her gut. He had to do this for money, while she had just been born into it. While her father just had to make deals with other wealthy men. Didn't they see how narrow their view of life was?

Clopin began to sing, dancing about the fountain. People clapped their hands, bouncing along with him. One man even took out his guitar and began strumming the melody along with him, prompting Clopin to point at him with a grin bright enough to blind the sun. Some water splashed on him, but he didn't seem to notice. It created streaks down his clothes, trickled across his dark face, and made his black hair shine.

Avril shook her head, smiling as she lounged against the railing. He certainly had everyone engaged and entertained. With a start she remembered to check for guards. She did a quick sweep of the area and didn't see any. With a relief, she turned back to watching Clopin.

The minutes passed as he performed, drawing a larger crowd and earning more money. He never seemed to tire, and she had to admit that his singing voice was simply beautiful. He was now thoroughly wet, but that mostly due to one section of a particularly rowdy song when he saw fit to dance in the fountain itself.

Avril scoped the area again and started when she saw three guards heading into the circular market, their silver armor glinting in the sunlight. She turned and hurried down the stairs, keeping a grip on the side of her hood to be sure it stayed down. She hit the ground and jogged round the fountain until she got into his field of vision. She took out a small mirror from her pocket and turned it toward him, twisting it to catch the sun.

Clopin caught sight of a blinding flash and saw Avril at the edge of the area. He began to wrap us his song, cutting it shorter than he'd had planned. He saw her growing impatient, even waving at him. This caught the attention of an older woman beside her, who pointed at him and smiled knowingly. Avril waved her off.

Suppressing amused laughter, Clopin said, "People of Paris, it's been an honor performing for you!" As cheers rang up, he grabbed his money and hopped off the fountain.

"Hey, gypsy!"

Clopin rolled his eyes at the guard's shout, bounding through the crowd as he saw Avril hover at the corner of the market space. He hurried over to it and turned around, seeing the guards rushing over to him.

"Gypsy!" a guard called. "Hold on, we need to question you-"

"_Au revoir!" _Clopin shouted, and threw down an explosion of purple smoke.

He darted around the corner, taking his cloak from Avril, and flung it around him. Pulling up the hood, he said, "Let's go to Third Street."

She looked at him helplessly. "I don't know where that is!"

"Follow me."

They hurried down the stone streets of Paris, cramped buildings rising up around them. They quickly turned corners and weaved through crowds. Avril was impressed by how fluidly he moved. It was like water making its way through a bed of rocks. She felt clumsy by comparison. The bells of Notre Dame sounded across the city, temporarily overpowering the conversations around them.

At last they reached their destination. The same run-down, almost entirely vacant street that Clopin often used to change clothes whenever he was in the neighborhood. They slowed down, Avril panting.

"Nice work there," he laughed, pulling his hood back.

She gave him a smile before glancing at the puddle rapidly forming beneath him. "_Monsieur _sneaky gypsy, you're leaving a trail."

He glanced down. "Oops. I knew I should have relieved my bladder before we left." He cocked a grin and wiped some of the water off his mask. "Stand guard, will you? I'm going to change clothes."

She leaned against the wall of one building as he disappeared into an alley. She still kept her hood up, but she was fractionally more comfortable in this side of town. Her parents would never go here.

"So what did you think of your first day out?" Clopin's voice called.

She shook her head. "Overwhelming."

He laughed. "I thought you did rather well. Saw the guards, reacted fast. Didn't fail at signaling me."

She brought a hand up to her face, rubbing it. "I was practically having a panic attack."

She detected a smirk in his voice as he said, "Didn't want me to get in trouble with the law, did you?"

"Well, you weren't doing anything wrong. Why should those guards give you trouble?"

"Because I'm a gypsy."

Avril sighed. "It's wrong." Deciding to switch to a happier subject, she said, "You were amazing, by the way. You're very talented."

"Thank you."

"I'm serious! You're singing voice is great. You hit notes _I _can't hit."

He chuckled.

Avril slumped against the wall, fingering a gold bracelet around her wrist. "Clopin . . . I can call you that, right? There's not some title I should be saying?"

Suddenly he was at her side, leaning against the corner in a cloak and simple peasant clothes. He gave her a wry smile. "We gypsies don't stand on ceremony. Call me whatever you like."

She faced him. "Alright, Clopin. I'd just like to say that I appreciate you taking me with you."

He studied her for a moment, his hair still damp and his single gold earring glistening in the warm sun. "You're not a prisoner, Avril. However, you know we can't completely trust you. Not yet, anyway."

She nodded. "I understand why."

Suddenly his hand was around her arm and he was yanking her back into the alley. She was slammed up against the wall. She opened her mouth to question when he put a finger to his lips, hunching beside her.

"The Desmarais girl?" the voice of a man sounded from the street she had just been in. The clinking sound of armor proved it to be a few guards. "Judge Frollo said we were to search everywhere for her."

"What do you think happened?"

"Who knows? He said she vanished in the middle of the night. Her window was open. Maybe some thug broke in?"

"Probably a gypsy."

"Haha, probably. It's been almost a day. If she's not found by tonight, I bet she'll never be."

"She's most likely dead already. Why we're bothering with this search I've no idea."

"You know how those rich folk are. Always think they have the power to solve any problem."

The voices got closer and Avril looked at Clopin in panic. He glanced around the alley and then spotted a half-open door. The building looked abandoned, one of the windows broken out. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her along behind him as he darted inside.

It was dark, the only light coming in through the doorway and windows. It appeared to have once been a store, but now all that was left was empty shelves and dust. White dust motes swum in the air and itched their noses. They pressed themselves against the wall as they listened. They were too far away now to make out the soldiers' words, but they listened as the sound faded altogether.

Avril sighed. "That was close. Good work."

Clopin frowned at her. "It appears someone cares enough to have Frollo's guards look for you."

She glanced once at his face, then studied her bare feet. " . . . It's too late to show they care."

"Just what exactly are you leaving behind?"

She pushed off the wall, pacing a bit in front of him. "To everyone else? Everything. Two parents. A successful future. A grand house and connections with the elite of Paris. Beautiful dresses, jewelry, and fabulous parties. My father's business."

He crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side. "And to you?"

She cocked a grin, stopping. "Two uptight parents. A future of back-stabbing and gossip. A house that must always be bigger than my neighbor's. Having to deal with the snooty elite of Paris. Dresses I can't breathe in, jewelry that weighs me down, and boring parties. And, being a female, I can't inherent my father's business. I have a cousin who will. Although I am guaranteed a fortune."

He was trying valiantly to repress a bemused grin. "Is is really that bad?"

She laughed, the spark in his eyes contagious. "Alright, the jewelry was actually very nice."

"Come on, little rich girl," he said, standing up straight. "We're meeting Esmeralda in a half hour."

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><p><strong>Reviews are reciprocated with cookies!<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Sorry this is kinda late. 8D**

**Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue**

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><p><strong>CH. 7 <strong>

The Palace of Justice gave off an aura of bleak darkness no matter how sunny it was outside. Its walls and roofs seemed to have had the color seeped from them. The windows always looked dark except when it was night. And even then not many lights were on. It set high above the surrounded buildings, exuding its dominance on Paris, her law, and her people.

Inside wasn't much different. It was cold and dark, with architecture to make its occupants, and more prominently its prisoners, feel inferior. Servants kept the palace perfectly clean. Soldiers helped carry out orders. There was only one man in absolute authority. One man that had the entire Palace of Justice to himself, in his control, and for his use as a symbol to all of Paris that _he _would keep it in line.

Currently, that man was looking out the window with a scowl on his wrinkled face, his arms crossed tightly, and only the dawn sunlight coming from the window to provide illumination.

Judge Claude Frollo sighed, his eyes roaming over the network of Paris.

_Where are you, Lucien? _

Granted, his meetings with that lowly, corrupted gypsy weren't ever planned or consistent. And it was far less conspicuous that way. But Frollo grew impatient when he wouldn't hear from Lucien in a few days, and this was one of those occasions. Although he was confident he had the man under control, there was still a prying doubt that he would bail on their deal. Or, worse, he would be caught.

Frollo couldn't let that happen. Not until he had the location of the Court of Miracles.

A knock on the door drew him from his thoughts. He turned as a servant opened it. "What is it?"

"My lord, Bernard and Silvine Desmarais are here to speak with you," the servant responded.

Frollo sighed, turning around. "Send them in."

The room he was in was rectangular. With high walls, sparse furnishings, and a single fireplace. It was one of the few nice, quiet rooms in the Palace of Justice that he liked to do his thinking, and his have his meetings, in. It smelled of candle wax, thick wood, and the worn pages of books.

Silvine and Bernard hurried into the room, still clinging onto an heir of dignity. The door was shut behind them.

"Good morning, _Monsieur _and _Madame_," Frollo said, clasping his hands calmly in front of him. "How are you?"

"As well as we can be," Bernard replied. "Have you received word from your soldiers? Have they found our daughter?"

"I have had a search party out since yesterday morning. They reported to me a few hours ago that they still haven't found her."

Silvine covered her mouth, gasping.

Bernard ran his fingers through his brown hair. "My lord . . . She is our only child! We cannot lose her! If something has happened-"

Frollo held up a hand. "I know, sir. I know all too well the things that could befall a young, innocent woman in Paris. I assure you I am doing all I can. Although, I would like to ask you a few questions concerning her."

Bernard swallowed. "Yes?"

The Judge began to pace along the wall as he said, "Had she been acting strange recently?"

"Somewhat," Silvine responded. "She's always acted strange, ever since she was a teenager."

Frollo caught Bernard give his wife a warning look, but pretended not to notice. "Really? What kind of behaviors concerned you?"

Seeming more hesitant, Silvine responded, "She's never quite been engaged in her own social status. She's . . . questioned our views." She quickly added, "But no more than any other young, headstrong girl. She's well-bred, and I'm sure will make a fine tribute to the social elite."

Frollo paused, facing them and arching one eyebrow. "Which is it, then, _Madame? _Does she act strange or not?" At their awkward silence, he continued, "I wish to help you. But to do so I must know everything."

"Since we moved to Paris, she's withdrawn from us," Bernard replied. "She's questioned our views more than usual. She even had a bad argument with her mother." He lowered his head. "That was the night before she disappeared."

"What kind of questioning does she do?"

"She . . . picks apart the way we live, the things we talk about," Silvine answered. "More specifically in regards to our social status. Recently she's had a strange fascination with commoners and gypsies. I hadn't heard too much from her, but when I saw Brigette the other day, she told me all Avril ever asks about is gypsies."

_That _caught Frollo's interest. "A fascination with gypsies? And she's never been exposed to them before?"

"Never, sir," she responded.

Frollo turned toward the window, looking out of it. The dawn sunlight turned him into a dark silhouette. "Do you think it's a possibility that she's run away?"

The gasps from them was audible.

"Run away? Avril?" Silvine exclaimed. "She would never! She's far too pure to do such a thing, my lord."

Frollo turned back to them. "Gypsies have a way of igniting your lowest desires. Just their very presence brings out the transgressions in you. Only the most virtuous of people can stay steadfast. If Avril, perhaps about in the city, came too close to the gypsies, it could turn her to such sins as this."

"But where would she go?" Bernard gasped. "She knows nothing of Paris!"

"Maybe she's lost, perhaps she's with some peasants or in a bar. We still cannot rule out the prospect that she was kidnapped. But we must also consider that her leave is voluntary."

Silvine grabbed onto her husband's arm, seeming on the verge of sobbing. "What should we do, my lord?"

"If she is kidnapped we'll rescue her and prosecute the criminals," the Judge replied. "If she's run away she'll be brought back and I shall help her recover from her sinfulness." He inclined his head. "You are dismissed. I shall keep you informed if my soldiers find anything."

After some nervous 'thank you's' they left, but Frollo stopped the servant before he returned out into the hall.

"Summon my niece and nephew," the Judge ordered. "I wish to speak to them."

It was about a half hour before Brigette and Gervais walked through the door. She was wearing a maroon gown with her hair in a bun, and he had on his finest tunic.

"Uncle?" Gervais asked. "You called for us?"

"Yes," Frollo faced them. "I assume by now you've heard that Avril Desmarais is missing."

"Yes," he nodded. "Her parents thought she might be with us the morning she vanished. It's a terrible thing; I'm very worried about her."

Brigette waved her hand dismissively. "I think she had it coming. She was always sticking her nose where it didn't belong. I warned her to stop asking about gypsies. That's just begging for trouble."

Frollo moved closer to them, his dark robes gliding across the floor. "What kind of questions about gypsies was she asking?"

"Everything," she sighed dramatically, as if it had been a complete bore. "Who they were, how they lived, who's their king, and even where the Court of Miracles is. She said odd things, too. Almost like she sympathized with the gypsies. I warned her against that attitude. I don't think she listened."

"Be kind, Brigette; she could be in trouble," Gervais said.

Frollo considered this a moment, nodding. "Do either of you think it's a possibility that she ran away?"

"Yes."

"Not really," Gervais replied. "She didn't seem like the type. Then again, I didn't know her very well." He paused, then added. "Do you have a search party out?"

"Yes," the Judge responded. "The Desmarais' requested it. And they are rather influential, so I thought it best to assist them. Would you two do me a favor and keep on the lookout for her?"

"I'd rather not."

"I've been doing my own searching," Gervais told him. "If I find her, I'll be sure to tell you."

"Thank you. You two may go."

Frollo watched as they left, conversing with each other, before heading back over to the window. He looked out across Paris, wondering where a single rich young woman was in the sprawling city.

Maybe she was kidnapped. Maybe she was being held against her will and in peril. Or perhaps she learned useful information about the gypsies while she was mingling among the peasants and if so, Frollo intended to find her and extract it from her. One way or another.

HoND

Avril sat in one corner of the main room in the Court of Miracles. Activity buzzed throughout it, and she was unused to having quiet time to herself. As it was, she felt like drawing and so picked out an empty space away from all the hubbub. She had her knees drawn in, her parchment balanced on them, and was working on replicating the room with her charcoal. She had the basic lines sketched out, and was now taking the time to do the details and the shading.

She heard the jangling of jewels and saw Esmeralda approach. The girl looked her over before asking, "Can I join you?"

"Sure," Avril nodded.

As she sat, Esmeralda said, "I haven't gotten a chance to really talk to you yet. And seeing as you want to stay permanently, we might as well get to know each other." She gave a smile. "We'll probably have lots of dealings together since I'm an 'important' gypsy." She said the word "important" as if she didn't feel like any gypsy was of more value than another, but she still knew she stood out among the others.

"I've noticed that," Avril said, looking at her. "What kind of rank do you hold here?" She wanted to add "Because you're rather young", but decided against it. She didn't know the gypsies' customs.

"I wouldn't necessarily say I have a rank. But I'm close to Clopin, and he's the King."

"Are you two related?"

"No," she gave a soft laugh. "But we've always considered the other a sibling. He's my best friend. And because of that, I get to be involved in the major happenings with the gypsies."

Avril gave her a smile. "That sounds like fun."

Esmeralda looked out across the room, and then to the drawing. "That's really good. Did you have someone teach you?"

"Oh . . . no. I've taught myself. It's been a hobby of mine for almost my whole life."

"You could make money with these."

Avril tilted her head to the side, considering. "I guess that would be nice. I'd like to be helpful around here."

The gypsy felt her distrust wavering. Avril seemed so sincere. Still, Lucien had never struck her as dangerous, either. Either way, Esmeralda felt it was important for her to find out more about this girl.

"So," Esmeralda leaned back against the stone wall, getting comfortable. "Where are you from, Avril?"

" . . . Northern France. I used to live on a country estate. We moved to Paris so my father could be closer to the business world."

Her green eyes glanced at her. "And what exactly does your father do?"

"A bit of everything. He's mostly an investor."

"Ah."

There was a moment of silence between the two, Avril working patiently on her drawing. The young girl watched her with interest, then returned her gaze to the Court before them.

"What do you think of the gypsies so far?" Esmeralda asked.

"You all are . . . quite fun," she replied with a laugh. "It's nothing like the life I'm use to. I actually like it better. Everything is so casual and informal. No one judges anybody or is in competition. It's . . . a relief."

"And what do you think of Clopin?"

Avril gave her an amused smile. "He's hard not to like."

Esmeralda laughed, as if knowing exactly what she meant. "I remember the first time I saw you, brought in by the guards. You asked Clopin to speak to our king."

Avril laughed with her, nodding. "Yes. He's nothing like the rumors I heard about the Gypsy King. He doesn't even look very intimidating."

The gypsy put her finger to her full lips. "Shhh. Don't let him hear you."

After sharing another laugh and lapsing into silence for a few minutes, Esmeralda sighed and asked, "So why are you here, Avril? Why join the gypsies when you had everything?"

The young woman paused, considering. It was an answer she was used to giving. It was subject she'd rehearsed many times in her head. Yet now, after nearly two days with the gypsies, it held new meaning.

"I was unhappy," she said softly. "And I knew things would only get worse. I came here for freedom."

Esmeralda pressed her lips together, nodding. With a jangle of gold jewels, she stood and looked down at Avril, saying, "I hope you find what you're looking for here."

HoND

The dagger sailed through the air before embedding itself in the wood wall. It sat just outside the white circle, part of a dart board that had been painted on. The wall was full of painted dart boards. Some were scarred up beyond use, others were relatively fresh. The smell of old paint and chipped wood filled the small, square room.

"Close," Quincy commented, leaning back against the far wall.

Clopin glanced back at him. "I'm just going easy on you." He stepped back casually. "You're turn."

As the large, bulky gypsy took up a stance in the center of the room, he responded, "You don't have to go easy on me. You usually beat me anyway."

As he waited for his bald, dark eyed friend to throw, Clopin said, "So, what do all the gypsies think of Avril?"

Quincy glanced back at him curiously. "You don't know?"

"I'm just asking you because my opinion could be biased."

"They don't trust her."

Clopin sighed. "I didn't think so."

Quincy turned his attention back to the dart board, lining up his shot. The lantern light flickered on the dagger's hilt and his gold tooth. "Do you trust her?"

"Honestly? Yes. I spent almost the entire day with her yesterday and she's . . . too sincere." He shook his head. "She's not a threat."

A loud _thwack _sounded as the dagger embedded itself close, but not on, the bull's-eye. Quincy turned around to face him. "But when she came-"

"Suspicious, I know." The Gypsy King scooped up another dagger, fiddling with it. "But coincidences _do _happen. Besides, Frollo probably doesn't even know Lucien is dead yet."

The bulky gypsy registered the mischievously contemplative look in his friend's eyes. "What are you planning?"

Clopin took up his place and Quincy stepped aside, aiming. "Tomorrow night, I want to have a little spy trip on the Palace of Justice. See if Frollo leaves. By now he's got to be apprehensive about Lucien not reporting to him."

Quincy tilted his head to the side. "And what are you hoping to accomplish by this? We already know Lucien worked for Frollo."

The dagger spun through the air and sank into the exact center. Allowing himself a smirk, Clopin spun around on his heels and placed his hands on his hips. "I want to know what our dear friend Claude Frollo is going to do next. He lost his gypsy spy just before learning the location of the Court of Miracles. He's got to be upset. Maybe even desperate. Whatever it is, this time, I want to _know _what danger he's going to put us in before it happens." His gaze darkened. "We're not going to be made fools again."

After a pause, Quincy said softly, "It's no one's fault, what happened. None of us guessed we had a traitor, or that it was Lucien."

Clopin deflated, dropping his arms. "I know." He looked up at his friend. "Want to come tomorrow night? To be so huge, you're surprisingly silent."

"Um . . . thank you? Yes, I'll come."

Clopin considered a moment before stating, "I'll have Esmeralda come, too. She'll throw a fit if she's left out, and she's a great spy anyway. And . . . and Avril. I want to get her assimilated into the gypsy life quickly and to show everyone I trust her."

The large gypsy nodded. "We trust _you, _sir. It's just . . . we've never had anyone other than a gypsy live in the Court of Miracles."

"I know. We've also never had someone other than a gypsy betray us." After a sigh he smiled. "A year for firsts, isn't it? I can't wait to see what surprises await us throughout the months."

Quincy took up a dagger, ready to resume their game. He gave a half-grin. "Careful. You don't want to jinx us."

He waved his hand dismissively, leaning back against the wall. "I'm far too lucky for that."

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><p><strong>Sorry this is a bit short. And I just realized that's my first real Frollo-centric scene. Despite him being talked about quite often, he hasn't had his own scene yet! He's really fun to write, lol. <strong>

**If you'd like me to continue, please leave a review!  
><strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry this took so long to update! Thanks to those of you leaving reviews! You make my rainy days brighter!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own HoND**

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><p><strong>CH. 8<strong>

Clopin crouched on the edge of the rooftop, gazing at the streets below. Fog hung about the buildings, providing even more cover for the gypsies. The night was dark and quiet, smelling of a recent rain. The stones that paved the streets had a soft sheen to them. In the poorer regions of Paris, citizens were still awake. Soft lights could be seen in the distance, but any noise from the taverns faded by the time it reached the area around the Palace of Justice. Here the streets were wider and the houses dark.

Clopin nodded, drawing back into the shadows. "No one's around. We shouldn't be seen." He glanced back at his three companions, grinning. "Great night to go hunting, no?"

Quincy was a huge mass in the darkness, his cloak making him seem all the more menacing. He was under an overhang on the roof. That, along with the chimneys and decorative statues made it an ideal place to keep watch. It was the roof of a fancy restaurant, and sunk somewhat low under the taller buildings about it.

Esmeralda sat restlessly, her gold jewelry removed so it wouldn't catch the light. She seemed eager for some action, and it was times like this Clopin had to remind himself how young Esmeralda was. When he was fifteen, he was definitely restless. Come to think of it, he was even restless nowadays! Beside her Avril kneeled, dressed in her newly acquired blue gypsy clothes. He thought blue complimented her. It brought out the color in her otherwise pale eyes.

"How long will we have to wait?" Esmeralda asked.

Clopin turned to the Palace of Justice, keeping its dark and watchful gaze over Paris. "Not long. I see lights in the lower levels. Maybe we'll get lucky and Frollo will go for a stroll."

HoND

Frollo paced in the foyer of the Palace, his hands wringing behind his back. A fireplace burned and several lanterns were on. They provided soft heat and orange light, reflecting off the windows and obscuring his vision of the outside.

Where _was _Lucien?

Frollo thought himself a patient man. But hearing no word from Lucien was making him fear the worst. He couldn't lose his gypsy spy. His gypsy traitor. What would he have then? His lead would be gone, and he'd be back where he'd started. Lucien had given him nothing about the Court of Miracles. No clue to go off of, not even a slip-up.

Frollo gritted his teeth and turned to the window, looking out. His vision was obscured because of the light from the lanterns and fire, so he moved closer until his forehead rested on the cold glass.

_Mark my words, Lucien, _the Judge thought, _If you have betrayed me I will make you pay. _

Frollo certainly hoped the traitorous gypsy hadn't turned on him. But what he worried about more was that Lucien had been caught and killed. That would be the ultimate end to this plan. He gained some comfort that knowing even if Lucien was dead, he was suffering in Hell. Even if the man hadn't been a gypsy, betrayal wasn't something looked kindly upon.

Staring out at the darkness of Paris, Frollo made up his mind and pulled away from the window. He'd go on a little outing and frequent the spots he and Lucien would sometimes secretly meet at. Maybe he'd catch the gypsy, or hear word of what had happened to him.

Gathering a long, black cloak, Frollo pulled the hood up and headed out into the night.

HoND

Avril sat huddled back against a column on the roof, watching the Palace of Justice. She was really grateful Clopin had wanted her to come along. It made her feel like she belonged. And while the gypsies had been reservedly friendly to her, she couldn't help but feel like she was an outsider. In her looks, in her background, in her very being. And she couldn't shake the feeling that the majority of the gypsies were keeping a watch on her, waiting for a slip-up to prove to them that she really didn't want to be a part of their lives. That she was a spy or someone sent to sabotage their way of life.

Avril gave a soft sigh. At least her present company seemed to feel differently about her. Quincy was nothing but friendly, despite his menacing looks. Esmeralda was quite sweet, although Avril could tell she had doubts. It didn't seem to be about her trustworthiness, but she couldn't quite place the look that would come into the girl's emerald eyes at certain times.

And then there was Clopin. The one who had accepted her. The one that was protecting her and giving all his effort to assimilate her into the gypsy way of life. She really had no way of expressing how grateful she was to him. In the chaotic rapids of the Court of Miracles, he was her one rock to hold onto.

She studied him as he crouched on the edge of the roof, blending into the shadows and watching the Palace. She probably wouldn't have been able to see him at all if not for the lights on in the Palace of Justice and the torches held by guards at the entrance. His silhouette was slender and attractive. She wondered when she had become so attached to him. Then again, she knew the answer to that. The moment he opened her cell door, welcomed her to the Court of Miracles, and introduced himself. But when had the attachment become so strong?

As if feeling her eyes on him, he glanced back and flashed a smile at her. She smiled back.

"Look!" Esmeralda whispered, pointing to the Palace of Justice.

They all followed her finger and saw the door open and quickly closed, revealing a tall, slim figure clad in a black cloak. It quickly and purposefully went down the steps and out into Paris.

Clopin looked back at the three. "It might be our dear friend Frollo. Let's follow him, but stay quiet."

He went first, moving from rooftop to rooftop as he trailed the cloaked figure. Quincy went next, followed by Esmeralda and then Avril. They moved soundlessly, and Avril felt loud by comparison. But none of them reprimanded her, so she knew the taps of her feet on the roof and her panting must not be very loud. She watched Clopin ahead as he raced low across a roof, jumping to the next. She thought he moved like a fox. Graceful, agile, and light.

The figure wound his way through the streets, seemingly hurrying. He also appeared to know exactly where he was going, not pausing for anything. As he moved into the narrower streets, the group of four began to fall behind. The roofs were spaced too wide, and the figure was weaving skillfully through the maze of streets.

Clopin paused, squinting his eyes as he peered ahead. "_Merde, _I can't see him." He looked back at the group. "Let's split up and go to the ground. See if you can find his whereabouts and report back to the Court of Miracles in an hour." At their agreement, he added. "Let's split into pairs. Avril we come with me."

Avril could see that same look flash into Esmeralda's eyes, but she still couldn't decipher the emotion behind it.

"Yes, sir," Quincy nodded, and hopped off the roof.

"Okay," Esmeralda said slowly. "We'll see you there, then." And then she followed the large gypsy.

Clopin turned to the young woman. "Let's go."

He vaulted off the roof and landed without a sound on the stone streets below. He looked up expectantly.

Avril stared over the edge. "Um . . . I've never done this before."

A smile spread across his face. "I'll catch you, _chérie." _

Blushing at the term, she took a breath and hopped down, suppressing a yell. She felt wind rush past her face and the sickening sensation of falling before two arms wrapped around her waist, stopping her.

Avril let out her breath, her heart pounding. She opened her eyes to find Clopin clutching her tightly to him, leaning back in an effort to keep her from the ground, with his face inches from hers.

They both hesitated, meeting eyes. Her pale blue and his black. Avril had never been so close to a man before. She could feel the heat from his body, the beating of his heart, and his breath on her face. And although she thought it likely that he'd been this close to a woman, the way he was looking at her made her flush. It was with surprise, as if he was caught off-guard by something.

Then he blinked and smiled, setting her down. "You weigh more than it looks like you would, Avril."

She pursed her lips, the previous moment gone as if it had never happened. "Thank you, Clopin."

He motioned. "C'mon. Let's see if we can find our mysterious figure."

HoND

Frollo sat at a corner table inside a tavern, bouncy music and raucous laughter all around him. The light was dim and yellow, and he could smell alcohol and burnt meat. The round tables spread about the room were full of people, but none of them Lucien.

Frollo sighed, his hood pulled low. This was he and Lucien's main meeting spot. Of course, they barely met. But whenever they did it was either here, or in the alley by the Palace of Justice. No one paid him any attention. There were all too drunk or too caught up in themselves to care. He had waved off the waitress and she had respected his wishes.

Frollo was not pleased. No word from Lucien in nearly a week, and no sign of him anywhere. He could be dead, imprisoned, or had changed his mind. Whichever it was, Frollo came to a decision. He would forget Lucien. It was over and done. At the very least, he got to kill a few gypsies from it.

Besides, maybe he no longer needed Lucien. If his guards found that Desmarais girl, then perhaps she knew something about the gypsies.

And Frollo was very interested in that.

HoND

Avril and Clopin walked slowly down the streets, the quiet night wrapped around them. They had searched for a half hour, but couldn't find the person they'd been pursuing. She could tell he was dejected, and had lapsed into silence. They were just walking aimlessly now, on the off chance they'd see the figure again.

Avril glanced at him, wanting to say something to cheer him up, but not knowing what. She looked over the surrounding buildings and stopped when she saw what they were heading toward.

Notre Dame. The cathedral stretched up toward the heavens. It was intricate and artful, its steps seeming inviting. Even the bells, nearly hidden in the bell tower, seemed to sing while they were silent. It was such a beautiful place.

Avril let out breath in awe as they walked out into the empty plaza around the cathedral. "It's so pretty."

Clopin looked at her, then up at the church. "Oh, yes. It is, isn't it?" At last he smiled. "Is this your first time to see it?"

"This close, yes."

He hesitated, frowning. "I thought you told me you met the Archdeacon when you arrived in Paris?"

She nodded, still transfixed by Notre Dame. "He was busy visiting a hospital that day. My parents insisted meeting him, so we went there instead."

"Naturally," Clopin muttered under his breath, "they would do that."

Avril tugged at the blue scarf looped around her neck. She looked to the Gypsy King. "Can we go inside?"

He gave her a bright smile and gestured to the cathedral. "You can't live in Paris without seeing this lovely place."

They went up to it, climbing the steps and going through the large doors. It was huge inside, its ceiling seeming as high as the sky. Lazy smoke drifted from the candles, and pews were arranged in artful rows. Statues, paintings, and stained glass adorned the place. All in all it was the most beautiful location Avril had ever seen.

"Wow," she breathed. "This is everything I heard it was."

Clopin, arms crossed, nodded. "It is, indeed."

He followed as she walked about, looking around. She went to the pews, trailing her hand along the back of one before sitting down. She turned to Clopin, who stood in the aisle. "I guess it can't hurt to pray for Frollo to be stopped."

He bit his lip, looking away. "I guess."

She frowned, forgetting the majesty of the cathedral around him and focusing on the gypsy. "What . . . You are Christian, are you not?"

His gaze returned to her, and he shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know. I use to believe, but . . . Our situation hasn't gotten better. And Frollo uses God to justify what he does. I don't see why I should be a part of that."

Instead of shock, all Avril felt was sympathy. She blinked up at him, her bare feet lightly touching the cold floor. "Oh, Clopin." She shifted her weight so she could more fully face him, the candlelight flittering in his dark eyes and shining off his black hair. "Frollo may think he is obeying the Heavenly mandate, but he is not. Nothing he does or says comes from God. That man is evil, and one day he will pay for what he's done. As for you," she stood, looking up into his eyes. "God will help your people through this. He has kept you safe all these years. You just have to trust Him." Not completely aware of what she was doing, she reached up a hand and touched the side of his face. Instead of pulling away, he leaned into it, meeting her gaze with an infinite sadness. Avril said softly, "He has not abandoned you."

He blinked, his eyes never leaving her. After a long moment he pulled gently away, nodding once. "Let's go back to the Court of Miracles, shall we? We don't want to keep our friends waiting."

HoND

Avril sat in her small room in the gypsies' home, the door closed and a single lantern on. It was late, and she knew she needed to be going to sleep. But her mind was so busy with thoughts that she couldn't.

Esmeralda and Quincy hadn't found anything, either. But they had their theories. The figure matched the build of Judge Claude Frollo, and he was in disguise. The last time they saw him was heading into a less than respectable part of Paris. And, naturally, if Frollo was out looking for Lucien he would wear a disguise and go into such parts of the city.

Still, they had no concrete evidence, and weren't any wiser to Frollo's plans for the future. He would give up on Lucien eventually. The question was, what would he do after that? Would he go back to the way things had been, or would he be desperate and do something drastic?

Those thoughts upset Avril. How could one man be so cruel? How could one man hold the lives of every gypsy in his hands? Avril had wished she'd known what Frollo was the first time she had met him. She would have told somebody.

With a scoff, Avril shook her head. Who would have listened, anyway?

But theories over Frollo and his plans were only occupying a third of her mind. The rest was swirling with thoughts of Clopin. She just couldn't seem to stop thinking about the colorful, extroverted, and complex Gypsy King. She kept replaying the time she had spent with him, especially that night.

Sitting against one wall, her layers of blue skirts gathered round her legs, Avril pulled her sketch book from under the bed and her piece of charcoal. Drawing always relaxed her mind when it was busy.

She stared at the blank page, her hand drifting over it without actually touching yet. What to draw? She allowed the charcoal to touch the page lightly, and she began to form a smooth line. And, without entirely meaning to, she began to draw Clopin.

She drew him as she had seen him in Notre Dame. His arms not so much as crossed, but more like he was holding himself. His face was turned slightly to the side and he was staring into the distance. And she couldn't forget the look in his eyes. It was of deep sadness, yet still hope was shining through.

She did a quick sketch and then began making the lines bolder, adding the details, shading. A couple of times, frustrated, she had to make some quick fixes. It just never looked good enough. She shaded his hair darkly, smudging her finger over certain spots where the candles had gleamed off of it. His skin was much darker than she was used to doing, but she was careful and blended the shadows evenly. She darkened the lines on his shoulders and arms, accenting his slender frame. And then she went to work on his eyes, trying to convey the emotions she had seen.

Once done, she looked it over. She was somewhat satisfied. She couldn't remember ever drawing someone so attractive. Even her gorgeous mother didn't have the same quality he did. Perhaps it was because he was beautiful on the inside as well as the outside. She still didn't feel she had quite got him right. It was like drawing the wind; impossible to peg down into a single form.

She pulled off her lumpy hat and closed her sketch book. Sticking it back under her bed, she quickly pulled off layers of clothes until she only had a small blue dress on. Putting out the lantern, she climbed into bed and fell asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Please leave a review!<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks for the reviews, especially to MiaCharlie for leaving so many! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own HoND**

**CH. 9**

Claude Frollo looked out over Paris from the shade of a stone balcony set inside the walls of the Palace of Justice. Thick columns crossed the opening every few yards. It was a perfect vantage point to watch the city from, a warm breeze greeting him from the cloudless blue sky.

He glanced at the young man to his left, Gervais Leveque. The twin had his arms crossed over his chest, staring into the distance with hard green yes. His auburn hair was ruffling in the wind.

"I worry about her, Uncle," Gervais stated. "She was so ignorant and innocent to the dangers of this city. She could be hurt."

Frollo gave a slow nod, his hands clasped before him. "Indeed, Paris is full of wickedness. A girl of her purity wouldn't survive long."

Gervais shot him a glare. "I haven't yet given up my search, as I know your guards haven't. We'll find her alive."

The Judge took a casual step closer to the intricate stone railing, saying calmly. "Oh, I didn't mean she was dead, although it is a possibility. I meant she would be swiftly corrupted. Out amongst the peasants and the . . . _gypsies."_

The young man tilted his head to the side. "What are you getting at, Uncle?"

"A thought that has been on my mind for a few days, since my guards keep returning empty and clueless as to Avril's whereabouts."

Gervais waited patiently for him to continue, dropping his hands to rest them on the railing.

"Since I've received reports not only from you but also from Brigette, Silvine, and Bernard that Avril had a fascination with the gypsies, I fear that it's likely she is living among them."

His green eyes snapped wide. "Wha-Avril? Living with the _gypsies? _Uncle, I don't think-"

"Then, pray tell, where is she?" Frollo said, whirling on him, his black robe flinging out. "No one has been able to find her. Not a single wanted poster, interrogation, or bribe has given us an answer. Criminals so often betray one another. If she was kidnapped, I find it possible we would have gotten some word. A death of a wealthy girl would go noticed. Someone looking as she does- well groomed with expensive clothes and civilized manners- would stick out like a sore thumb among the peasants. The only other option we are presented with is that she is living with gypsies and they are offering her their protection. It's beginning to seem more and more likely that she is hiding in the Court of Miracles."

Gervais wasn't sure what to say, and he blinked in silence. While he knew his uncle always had gypsies on his mind, he couldn't deny the logic behind the argument. It had been days since they'd last seen her. Where was she, that she was so well-concealed? Why did no one, not one single peasant, know where she was?

"The gypsies are heathens and corruptors," Frollo continued. "They will, and probably already have, destroyed all that is good and light in that young woman. If they have her in their clutches, there's no doubt that she's being manipulated down an evil path. She needs saving, and quickly."

The twin hesitated before asking, "What should we do, Uncle?"

Frollo turned back to look out over Paris. "We need to dig deeper than we are. If we are to catch the gypsies with her, we will have to be stealthy indeed. Unfortunately, my guards do not qualify for this. They're presence is always blatantly noticed." He paused. "But perhaps if someone the gypsies didn't expect. Someone they had never seen before . . ." As he drifted off, his eyes moved to his nephew.

"Me?" Gervais asked. "You want me to go into gypsy territory looking for Avril?"

He gave a short laugh. "My dear boy, there's no such thing as 'gypsy territory'. But yes, I want you to spy in the places they often frequent. Can you do that for me, Gervais? Can you do it for Avril Desmarais?"

The Leveque twin considered for a moment. There was a real possibility Avril was amongst the gypsies. And Frollo was right, the gypsies would be too cautious around the guards. If he went, maybe he could find her. And he could save her from a fall to darkness.

"I'll do it," Gervais nodded firmly. "I'll start my search tonight, and I'll search every single night until she's back home."

A smile slowly crossed Claude Frollo's wrinkled, pale face. "Good."

HoND

Clopin had been struck with inspiration the moment he woke up. Granted, that was close to noon due to being out most of the night. But there was never any real wake-sleep schedule in the Court of Miracles. Everyone did their own thing.

He headed down the stone, narrow hall toward Avril's room, rubbing his dark eyes in an effort to wake himself up more. He was still a little tired, but he was too excited about this idea to go back to sleep.

Pushing his hair back from his face, he moved the yellow sheet aside that blocked off the entrance into their new member's room. He peered in.

Avril was asleep.

Rolling his eyes, he said, "Hey, Avril! Ave, wake up!"

She moaned, pulling the covers over her head.

He stepped inside, letting the sheet drop close behind him. "_Mademoiselle _Desmarais! Get up; I have something to tell you!"

She yanked the covers down from her face deliberately. She had a glare fixated on him, her pale blonde hair a mess, but she couldn't hold it long before it dissolved into a bright smile. Seeming more amused than angry, she asked, "_Ma cheri, _Clopin, whatever are you doing waking me up this early?"

He grinned. He was used to receiving smiles whenever he walked into a room; he knew he was well-liked. However, when Avril favored him with that kind of smile, it felt different. It felt special.

Crossing his arms, he stated, "First off, it's not early. Second, this is _my _Court and I'll wake up whoever I please. And third, I have a special day planned for you and I."

She sat up, smoothing down her hair. Back when she lived among the rich she would have been appalled to be seen in such a state. But her time with the gypsies was making her think less and less of looking perfect. No one judged here. She asked him, "What?"

"I'm going to teach you how to be a real gypsy."

She arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

He gestured at the air. "I'm going to show you the ropes. How to pretend to be blind, peddle, steal, sneak, everything! These are skills you must possess to be a gypsy."

She shook her head in bemusement and said, "Alright then. Let me get ready."

HoND

Avril didn't feel very comfortable with two eye patches on. They were tight, and she didn't like not being able to see. She tried to focus on the task at hand. She was in a corner of the Court of Miracles, her hat at her feet and a cane in her grasp. She had to sell a good act for when Clopin came by.

Since she didn't have her sight, her other senses were on alert. She could smell someone making a spicy lunch, and the scent of the stone and heavy perfume wafted to her. She could hear all the noises of the people echoing off the walls.

A set of light footsteps drew closer. She tapped her cane on the ground, and as she felt a presence draw near, asked, "Coins for the blind?"

She contained her smile as she heard the _tink_ of coins as they were dropped into her lumpy hat. Clopin had told her to remain in character until he said to stop. She heard his voice say, "God bless you, _Mademoiselle." _She then heard him walk off.

It was another minute until he returned, saying in a sing-song voice, "You can look again, blind girl!"

She gratefully yanked the eye patches of, shaking her head. "How did I do?"

After not being able to see for awhile, the sight of him standing before her, giving a half grin, was welcome. "You did fine."

HoND

Clopin sat in a chair in his room, his feet propped up on his unmade bed. He was fiddling with his performing mask, turning it over and over in an attempt to look busy. His purple sheet that covered the entrance to his room was pulled halfway back, letting in light.

He hummed softly to himself, reaching up to stroke his beard, when he heard a soft _thump _from behind him. He jumped up and turned around, finding Avril crawling across the floor. Her shoulder must have hit his dresser, and she was looking up at him guiltily.

"Darn," she sighed.

He crossed his arms, chuckling. "Not silent enough, _chérie." _

"This is impossible!"

"You've only tried three times."

She stood up. "Let's face it, I'll be a terrible thief. I can't even get to your puppet." She gestured to where he had his replica puppet set against the wall.

"Try again," he said patiently. "Gypsies learn how to be good thieves for years, and even then we get caught at times. I'm giving you advantages. My back is turned, my 'door' is open. Just don't make any noise."

Frustrated at feeling incompetent, she said, "But I can't move like you!"

He understood where she was coming from. He'd seen plenty of young gypsies practice stealing in the Court and getting upset because they couldn't pull it off smoothly enough or silently enough. He put his hands on her shoulders, looking into her opaque eyes. "Just try again. One more time. For me."

Her throat had suddenly gone tight. She swallowed. "Okay. Once more."

Letting her go, he sat back in his chair and picked up his mask. He propped his feet casually on the bed. The minutes dragged by and he began to grow bored. He fiddled with his single earring. Was she coming or not?

Suddenly two hands reached around the back of the chair and grabbed his waist. He yelped, jumping up. He whirled around to see Avril bursting into giggles, his puppet tucked under one of her arms.

"Goodness, you jumped so high!" she laughed.

Clopin's eyebrows lowered. "That, dear girl, was not funny."

She waggled the puppet in front of him. "I got it. And since I knew you weren't expecting me to, I just couldn't resist scaring you."

His frown melted into a smile. He was impressed. Perhaps she had some latent gypsy in her after all. "Good work. Let's move on." As they headed out of his room, his sides were burning where she had touched.

HoND

She didn't feel safe at all.

Avril looked at the ground far below, biting her lip. Clopin had taken her to a remote room off the main area. It was vaguely circular, and had uneven and rough walls. He had told her it was ideal for climbing, and then asked her to climb up a wall to the ceiling. She could see his figure below her, looking like a small purple doll.

"Only look down if you think you're being pursued or the building is collapsing," the Gypsy King called up to her. "Otherwise, it will make you scared."

"I don't think there's any way to avoid that," Avril said nervously, clinging close to the wall. It was rough on her hands and bare feet.

"Keep going. You can make it."

She closed her eyes. "What if I fall?"

"Don't."

"_Clopin."_

"I'll catch you."

She decided to ignore the illogic in that statement. H couldn't be certain he'd reach her in time. And her fall would probably knock him flat on the ground. They could both end up with broken bones!

Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she looked back at the ceiling. Thankfully this room wasn't near as large as the main one. She didn't have much further to go.

The Gypsy King watched as she climbed higher, a smile spreading over his face. She would make it. He was very proud of her for facing her fears. For being brave enough to do something she'd never done before. As she went up higher and higher, and her blue skirts gathered around her knees, he began to be able to see further up her thighs. He looked away, covering his eyes. "_Mademoiselle, _we are both in a position of most inconvenience. Had I not looked away, I would have been able to see up your colorful skirts to your undergarments."

Avril felt heat rise to her face as she pressed on. "Then don't look, _Monsieur. _Perhaps you can take a turn climbing up this forsaken wall in a lady's dress and see how easy it is then."

"_Touché." _

Her feet were getting rubbed raw as she climbed, and she wondered how long it would take before the soles of her feet were as tough as the other gypsies that rarely wore shoes. The first day she'd gone without, they had hurt terribly. But they were much tougher now. She felt a small measure of pride in that. Her body was adapting to the gypsy lifestyle.

She at last reached the top, her fingers brushing the ceiling. Beaming, she called down, "Don't look, Clopin, but I reached the top!"

"Marvelous. Now come on down."

Avril looked over her shoulder at the long trek down. She sighed and began.

HoND

"No way."

"Yes."

"Clopin, no. I can't. I'll hurt myself! I'll hurt you!"

He laughed, flipping the dagger up into the air and catching it. "Trust me, _chérie, _you won't be able to hurt me. I've gotten into a few scraps in my life with more experienced fighters than an ex-socialite."

She scowled at him, looking at the dagger in her hand unsurely. They were in the same empty room she'd climbed the wall in. Here they had privacy and a measure of quiet. Avril pulled off her hat and took off the scarf from around her neck, tossing them aside. "Alright, then. Teach me."

He readied himself, dagger out before him. "How about this? I attack and you block."

He lunged at her and she stumbled back, crying out in alarm.

"Don't shout," he said, taking another step forward. She mirrored him by backing up. "Even if you're surprised, don't let your enemy know it."

He swung at her side and she ducked, the blade sailing over her. She could tell he was holding back. That each of his attacks was planned and measure. That he was going slower, and had complete control over the weapon so that he wouldn't hurt her.

He kicked out and she rolled across the stone, staggering back to her feet.

"You look unbalanced," he stated, moving quickly toward her and feinting left and right. "Stay on your toes. Stay light." He was pleased when he saw her shift to the balls of her feet, moving quickly to keep an even distance between them. Her pale blue eyes were wide.

He swung down at her head and she darted out of the way.

"Try blocking a few with your dagger," the Gypsy King suggested with a smile. "That's what it's for."

He swung at her shoulder and she brought her weapon up, bracing her arms, turning her head to the side, and closing her eyes. She heard the metallic clang and felt the vibrations through her arms as she parried his attack. She opened her eyes, grinning.

Clopin laughed. "Good, good. But next time try to watch the attack, _oui_?"

She playfully scowled at him, but could feel her confidence building. Another swipe came at her head and she blocked. It was clumsy, she knew, but effective. A thrust came and she side-stepped, slamming her dagger into his to force it aside. Attacks came at her thigh, shoulder, arm, waist. Each one she blocked, and each time he came faster.

"You're doing great!" he said, panting as they moved quickly through the room, always changing directions and spinning as if in a dance. "Just brace your whole body when you block, but stay light so you can counter-attack. Keep your eyes on my weapon, but also on me. Be aware of your surroundings."

She knocked his attack wide with a loud _clang, _asking, "We're in a bare room. There isn't much to be aware of in here."

Smirking, as they neared the wall he darted to it, jumped up, and ran along it until he was behind her. He landed, crouched, and thrust his weapon out. She jumped back.

He stood straight, spinning his dagger idly. "Alright. Now attack me."

Avril ran at him with an awkward swing. He swiveled out of the way. She swiped again and again, the blade cutting through the air. Each one he dodged expertly.

"Tighten your moves. Use control," he advised.

She did as he said, her brow bent in concentration. She was panting and sweating, but her adrenaline was on high and she was enjoying every moment.

"Use different attacks. Come at me from different angles."

She swiped down, up, low, and high. He blocked them with more skill than she'd shown. She pressed forward, determined to get the upper hand, when his blade caught the hilt of her dagger and sent it flying from her hand. It banged against the floor.

Not giving him a chance to attack, she surged forward and tackled him with a battle cry. He half-laughed half-yelped as he was brought to the floor, letting go of the weapon in an attempt to soften his fall. He hit the stone on his back, Avril's arms wrapped around his torso and her head against his collarbone. They both lay there a moment, panting and laughing.

She pushed herself up, arms brace on either side of his head. "I bet you weren't expecting that, Gypsy King!"

He blinked up at her, the feeling of her body against his distracting him momentarily. "Well, it was rather bold."

She suddenly seemed self-conscious and got off of him, sitting against the wall. He stayed there a moment before pushing himself up and joining her. They sat in silence, catching their breath and looking across the empty room.

He knew, throughout the exercises of that day, she had been obviously scared, obviously uncomfortable, and obviously feeling overwhelmed. But she pressed on. He wondered what it was that drove her. Her strong desire to be a gypsy? Or was it even that? Was it just a strong desire to start a new life and leave her old one behind? Did she want to prove to herself that she capable of adapting and becoming stronger? Was the force that was driving her _him?_

He shook that last thought out of his head. Where did _that _come from?

"I don't think the other gypsies trust me," she said, interrupting his thoughts.

He looked at her. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "The way they look at me sometimes . . . it's like they're waiting for me to mess up. To show that I'm not really on your side. Don't get me wrong, everyone has been friendly to me. It's just what they don't say, what they don't do. The look in their eyes that tells me the truth."

"I'm sorry. But you have to understand we were just betrayed by one of our own. And then for you to show up – not even a gypsy – and get a place among us. It's just a lot to happen in a short amount of time." His face warmed with a smile. "Don't worry, Ave. Just give them time."

She returned the smile. "Thanks."

Suddenly a female gypsy peered into the room. She had dark red lips, curly black hair, and a low-cut red shirt. She gave a sultry smile. "Hey, Clopin, I've been looking for you. I'm hosting a dance by the west stage. You coming?"

He nodded. "Wouldn't miss it."

As she disappeared, Avril turned to him. "Who was that?"

Clopin stood, offering her a hand. "Racquel. She's infamous around here for her, um, sexy parties."

"Excuse me?" she asked with a half-laugh, taking his hand and standing.

He shrugged. "You'll see if you come. Do you want to?"

She hesitated. " . . . You're going?"

"I never miss a party."

She ran her fingers through her hair. "I guess so."

As they headed toward the door, he picked up her hat and scarf and handed it to her. "If you get uncomfortable, rich girl, we can always leave."

As she took her clothing items from him and they headed out, two things lingered in her mind. One, was that she didn't like "rich girl" being used as an insult. Although he had a point in the context he was referring. She'd never been to such a party. And two, he said "we can always leave" and not "you can always leave".

HoND

Avril tried not to gawk in the mixture of shock and revulsion that was passing through her. She stood with Clopin on the outskirts of the dance area, having just walked up from getting a quick snack and cleaning up. Her exercises through the day had left her sweaty and slightly dirty. She was sore, but it was a good soreness. The kind one had knowing that they would be stronger the next day.

She realized Clopin hadn't been exaggerating in the slightest. A small platform was erected at the back of the dance floor, marked by a large red painted square on the stone floor. On the stage were four gypsies. Three were playing instruments, and one was singing. The singer was Racquel. The beat of the song was heavy, the music Middle-Eastern sounding. The words, however, was what caught Avril's attention most. They were full of thinly-veiled sexual references. She felt her face heating from not only that, but also from the sensual moves of her body as she sang.

Her movements were mirrored by almost all the gypsies. Many were grinding against each other and dancing in a way that Avril would have never even dared to think about at the fancy balls she used to go to. Contrasting that, however, they were laughing and talking and seemed to be having a good time. While certain couples did seem to be rather . . . engaged in their dancing, others just bounced to the music and conversed.

Clopin laughed aloud when he saw her face, throwing his head back. "Brave enough to go in?"

She sighed. "I want to be a gypsy."

"This isn't an essential part."

"I want to fit in."

"Then this would be essential."

She took a breath, bracing herself. "Let's go."

They walked into the mass of dancing people. She noticed that no children were there, and wondered where Esmeralda was. Perhaps with Quincy, since he didn't seem to be present, either.

"Are you going to dance?"

She turned to the Gypsy King, realizing that she'd just been standing there for quite some time. "I . . . don't really know how to dance like this. I'm used to structured group dances where the music is, well, much slower and everyone remains an arms' length apart."

He suppressed another bout of laughter. She seemed embarrassed enough as it was. "Just move side to side a bit. See, not everyone out here is dancing so sensuously. Let's just talk."

She mimicked his movements in a sort of half-dance, as if the music was only an afterthought. "What shall we talk about?"

"You were great today. I'll make a real gypsy of you yet."

She giggled. The music was loud, but they were close enough to hear one another well. "Clopin, I don't know if even _you _can turn this into a real gypsy."

"Well, if not, it certainly won't be for lack of effort on your part."

Avril smiled up at him, thankful for the compliment. "It means a lot to me, you know."

"I know."

They danced in silence for awhile until the song ended and Racquel's smooth voice shouted over the crowd, "That was lovely, friends." Many chuckled and cheered. "How about we cool down a moment and I'll have the band play that tune we always love to hear on Topsy Turvy day?" This elicited louder cheers.

"What's that?" Avril asked.

"A nice, bouncing tune," Clopin answered. "Something you can really dance to. You'll love it."

The musicians jumped right into it, tapping their feet as they began to play a lively melody. Avril smiled as she watched the gathered gypsies begin to dance, laughing, twirling, and jumping about. Many hands clapped to the beat.

She looked up at the Gypsy King. "I don't know how to dance like this, either."

"_What? _Honestly, _chérie, _have you been living under a rock?" Without waiting for a response, he took her hands and pulled her along with him as he bounced through the people. She gasped and then started laughing. Her hair bounced with her movements, her blue skirts swishing and spinning about her knees. She could hear the jewelry on all the gypsies jingle vivaciously.

Clopin didn't think he could smile any wider as he danced with her, she being the one focused point among a swirl of colors and music. Her hands, in his own, felt slightly smaller and much smoother. She hadn't had to live the hard life the gypsies did, and he almost couldn't believe her hands were real. They were much too soft. He recalled the first time he had seen her, pale blonde hair in curls and an expensive dress on her frame. Now her hair was loose and she wore the colorful, baggy clothes of the gypsies.

Such a transformation in a short period of time. And it made him happy that she seemed absolutely joyful.

**Please review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks to those of you who reviewed! Sorry about the lateness! Killed my wrists again by writing 8,000 words in two days for a contest, lol. And I just watched the finale of Expedition Impossible! My favorite team, The Gypsies, won! -does happy dance- Yay! **

**Disclaimer: I sure wish I owned Clopin**

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><p><strong>CH. 10<strong>

The storage room in the Court of Miracles was like a treasure room of junk. Items were piled up in mountains and strewn over the floor. As Avril and Clopin entered it, shutting the curtain behind them, they were greeted with dim light and the smell of dust and all sorts of materials. The room stretched out like a grand hallway, with a high ceiling and torches at intervals. There was practically any item imaginable in the room, including chests stuffed with clothes, furniture, blankets, instruments, books, and jewelry. Most of it was in some manner broken. It was torn, dirty, or old. Avril remembered the motherly gypsy Fifi telling her "This is where we keep things we don't immediately need or want. But it's free for any gypsy at any time."

"So, what are we looking for?" Avril asked as they walked further into the storage room.

"I think I know where some good daggers are in here," Clopin answered, beginning to rummage around in a cluster of drawers. "It will be good for you to have one."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea."

"Nonsense. You wielded one just fine yesterday."

She laughed, her blue eyes catching the piano seated by itself. "I was clumsy and awkward compared to you."

"Most people are."

Glancing over her shoulder and smiling at him, she sat down at the seat by the piano, studying its keys. The whites were covered in a thin layer of dust. She smiled at it. It was, at least, something familiar. She found herself glad that her parents had forced her to learn.

Clopin began humming as he looked, his voice carrying over the noises of him delving through junk.

"That's a pretty tune," she said. "Is it a song?"

She could see his hair move as he nodded. "Yes. We call it the 'Gypsy Wedding Song'. I had a couple tell me this morning they want to be married soon. We always sing that song during weddings; it's a tradition. It's been playing in my mind today."

"A gypsy wedding sounds like fun."

"It's the best kind of wedding there is."

She shook her head, smiling, as he continued to hum. The tune was soothing and soft. Arching one eyebrow, she peered down at the piano. She listened a few moments longer, to make sure she heard the right notes, and then began to play along with him.

Clopin stopped humming, straightening and turning to face her, a grin plastered across his thin face. He walked over to the piano and leaned against the side of it, watching her fingers dance over the keys. She would look up at him most of the time, proving she was well-familiar with the instrument. He'd always heard rich people knew how to the play the piano, mostly because it was an expensive instrument to possess.

She kept gazing at him, so he did what he always did when people watched him: entertain. He opened his mouth and began to sing.

"_So as long as there's a moon  
>To wish on<br>So as long as there's a song  
>to croon<br>We'll throw the wedding jar  
>To keep tradition<br>And hope your love will last  
>As long as there's a moon" <em>

Avril giggled. "That's very beautiful."

"What? My voice? Oh, I know that already."

She laughed. "The _song. _I've already complimented you on your voice, you don't get two."

"Really?" He gave her a wry grin. "I'll have to remember that."

Planting one hand on the piano, he vaulted on and stood up. He spread his arms out, leaning forward as if telling a dramatic story.

"_They say the moon is like a gypsy  
>She casts a spell and then she's gone<br>We know life is strange  
>Everything could change with the dawn" <em>

She stared up at him, transfixed by his powerful voice as he closed his eyes, tilted his head back and sang loudly, "_Let the night go on!" _

Heading through the stone hall, Esmeralda paused as she heard Clopin singing. Pushing her black hair back from her shoulders, she followed the sound, wondering where he was and who he was singing to. The sound of his song grew stronger as she moved further back in the Court of Miracles.

"_Oh, as long as there's a moon  
>To guide us<br>Oh, don't let the morning come  
>To soon"<em>

Esmeralda stopped at the entrance to the storage room and partially pulled the sheet back, peering inside. Her green eyes widened as she took in the scene. Avril was playing the piano, the notes ringing out into the air. Clopin was lying on top of the piano, his elbows braced on the edge in front of Avril. They were both gazing at each other as she played and he sang, their faces not far apart.

"_You know, we all want someone beside us  
>None of us are truly solitaire<br>Every moon is new and someone cares  
>I will care for you<br>As long as there's a moon"_

The notes began to grow faint as the two stared at one another. So slowly that she almost couldn't see it, Esmeralda noticed Clopin and Avril both moving closer together.

And then, as if sensing her presence, Clopin looked to the side and saw the young girl there. "Hey . . . Esmeralda." He gracefully rolled off the piano, standing up. "What do you need?"

He stood casually, leaning back against the instrument and crossing his arms. It was extremely casual. And that's what made it seem so awkward. Esmeralda looked to Avril. The pale girl was bright red, sitting at the keys and looking up at Clopin.

"I heard you singing," Esmeralda said, taking a step into the room.

"Oh, yes. I was teaching Avril the Gypsy Wedding Song. She's quite good with the piano, I was thinking she could play along with us."

" . . . That sounds good," Esmeralda nodded, raising one sharp eyebrow. "I'll see you two later, then?"

Clopin inclined his head. "We'll see you later."

As the beautiful young girl left, Avril fished for something to say to break the strange silence. What had just transpired, anyway? She had been playing the piano, he had been singing . . . goodness, but his voice was so gorgeous! And then . . . his face was so close. He was so attractive.

"Clopin, I-"

"Let's go out, shall we?" he asked, turning around. "Take a walk about the city? It's a lovely night."

She paused, her thought that hadn't even been fully formed dying on her lips. "Yes . . . Yes, that sounds like fun."

After Clopin chose a dagger he approved of, he gave it to her and they left the Court of Miracles. The night was clear and light. Stars were spattered across the sky, and the air was cool and crisp. Paris was dotted with lantern lights from the shops and homes that weren't quite ready to sleep. After they traversed the streets in silence for a few minutes, Clopin led her up on the roof of a housing building. It was large and square, with a waist-high stone wall running around it.

Avril followed him to the edge, leaning on the stone. They were facing the cathedral, standing tall and proud against the night sky. She let out her breath, her pale blonde hair blowing back from her face. "It's wonderful out here."

"Out where?"

She gestured at the air. "Paris, this part of town, the night, with the gypsies . . . I wouldn't trade any of it."

He grinned at her. "So, no lingering regrets?"

She shook her head. "None at all."

He looked down at his gloved hands, playing with his fingers. "I've been thinking about what you said to me in Notre Dame. About God and Frollo. And I was thinking maybe you were right. And maybe God sent you to me so that you could tell me that." He shrugged one thin shoulder. "Or . . . something that like."

She blinked at him, a warmth spreading through her chest. "I hated moving to Paris. And I hated my life. But maybe God faced me with all that so that I could run away and meet you."

He met her eyes again, a smile spreading across his face. "So this is like a full circle moment for us?"

She laughed. "I guess so."

"Well, I'd hate to think God put that badness in your path just so you could save my soul," he said with a playful wink.

Avril turned so she was facing him, resting one arm against the stone. "First off, the reason might not just be you. Maybe I'm meant to do something important with what I've learned. Tell my parents, or the tell people of my cla-my former class that they're wrong. Or maybe I'm meant to use what I know to help you all with Claude Frollo. Secondly," she leaned closer to him, "if anyone's soul is worth a lifetime of pain to save, it's yours."

She could see his throat constrict as he swallowed, felt the heat coming off his body. It was the first time she had really become aware that he was very much a man. And it was making her feel very much a woman.

Clopin felt his gut tighten and his face heat up. Granted, he'd had girlfriends before. But there was something about Avril that made him react in a way no one else had. He was drawn to her. Initially he thought it was because of her differentness. She was pale and sophisticated. And perhaps it was still that, but now something more was added. The way she had just thrown herself into gypsy culture with everything she had overwhelmed and honored him. No one else had ever _wanted _to be a part of this life. But she did, and it affected him deeply.

His gaze staying on her was beginning to make her feel self-conscious. She glanced out over the buildings, then smiled and pointed, "That was my house right there."

He reluctantly looked away from her, out over the city. "Where?"

"That one right there. With the curvy roof and silly little balcony coming from that window. I climbed out of that, you know. It was my escape route."

Spotting it, he laughed. "What a silly architectural design. That's some house, though. Do you know how many gypsies we could fit in that?"

They both turned away and began to climb from the roof, using a ladder that ran along the side of the stone building. "The whole Court of Miracles?"

"That's what I'm thinking."

"I could share my bedroom with Esmeralda," Avril said, her blue skirts swishing about her knees as she climbed down. "And probably two other gypsies."

"Who else do you like?"

"Um . . . Fifi's so sweet. Definitely Fifi."

"Anyone else?"

She hopped down onto the narrow street, the buildings crowding over them. "I could stay with Racquel and we could have sexy dance parties every night."

They both laughed as he joined her on the street. "And where shall I stay?"

She paused before answering with a smile, "You could share the tiny balcony with Quincy."

He laughed, throwing his head back. "Come on now, _chérie, _you're being ridiculous. The only room big enough for Quincy would be the basement."

Giggling, she replied, "The ceiling is rather low in there. I think he's too tall."

He shrugged. "No matter. We shall cut a path through the floor for him to walk about with his bald head poking out."

Trying to suppress a laugh, she added, "And we could tie a silver tray onto it with food so you could eat at any time."

They both burst out into laughter, and Clopin stumbled back to sit on a crate, holding his side. "That is so mean! We can never tell poor Quincy we picked on him like this."

Still giggling, Avril took a step back and lost her balance, tipping. She reached out to grab the ladder but Clopin grabbed her arm first. She sat down on his lap, pulling her hat off and running her fingers through her hair. "Oh, goodness, Clo. There's never a dull moment with you."

She looked at him and they locked eyes, their laughs slowly subsiding. He was leaning back against the wall, his head resting on it so he could look up at her. A smile was still spread across his face, his dark eyes alight with amusement.

Not even aware of what she was saying until it was already out, she asked, "Can I kiss you?"

He never lost his smile, but his gaze become heated as he responded, "Only if you do it like a real gypsy."

She stared at him, bringing her hands up to rest on his shoulders. She moved one leg so that she was straddling his lap, her bare toes brushing the stone street. He braced his hands on the crate under him, pushing himself fractionally forward and tilting his chin up. His smile was gone now, his lips parted. Avril was barely aware that her expression mirrored his. Their faces drifted closer.

_Only if you do it like a real gypsy. _

She inwardly smirked at his words. And, knowing that if her parents or anyone of her former social class could see her they would be appalled, she grabbed the front of his tunic and slammed him back against the wall, pressing her mouth against his. He gave a surprised yelp before relaxing, kissing her back. Her hands moved up past his throat to his jaw line, feeling his ink black beard with her thumbs. His hands moved to her waist, holding her where she was.

"_Avril!"_

They both jerked apart, looking to the side. Avril blinked, panting and hot as she took in the person standing not far from them. "Gervais?"

The Leveque twin looked as if he'd been hit in the back of the head. His green eyes were like two full moons, his auburn hair in slight disarray from an apparent run.

Avril got up off the Gypsy King's lap, smoothing her clothes. "Gervais, I . . . What are you doing here?"

"_Looking for you," _he replied, his gaze darkening. He looked to Clopin. "Who's this?"

Avril glanced back to see said gypsy reclining against the wall, his hands behind his head and one leg crossed. "This is my friend."

"Avril, he's a gypsy. You can't-"

Although she had heard that phrasing plenty of times before ever running away from home, now it caused a wave of anger to ignite in her. "I can make my own decisions on who I spend my time with, Gervais. He's a _human, _not a savage. I'm sorry that you've worried, but this is my choice. Go home. I'm happy here."

"Ouch," Clopin said. "That's gotta hurt, girly boy."

Gervais started forward, but Avril took a sidestep to cut off his route. She held her hands up. "Gervais, no!"

He stopped, seeming to control himself. His expression turned into a glare. "So, that's how it is, then? You chose that filth over us?"

Keeping her voice and gaze steady, she said, "Go home, Gervais. Forget about me."

The Leveque twinstared at her a moment before tilting his head to side so he could see the gypsy behind her. He was looking back with a wide smirk. Disgusted, Gervais turned on his heels and raced off.

Avril sighed, dropping her hands. She turned around. "Well . . . that went well."

Clopin stood. "Who was that?"

"Frollo's nephew. I spent some time with him when I first came to Paris."

"He was ugly."

"Clopin!" she said with a laugh.

"He was."

Shaking her head, she held out her hand. "Come on, we better head back to the Court of Miracles. I'd hate to run into anyone else I know."

Clopin took it. "What's he doing in this side of town, anyway? I would think he'd be too good for it."

Avril turned to him, looking up at his face. She opened her mouth to speak, when movement behind him caught her eye. She glanced, but too late. A soldier clad in all black sprung forward, dagger out. A scream rose in her throat.

Clopin must have seen her expression, because he pushed her roughly so that she fell back onto the street. He stepped sideways, but not soon enough and the dagger slit open his side.

He cried out at the pain, red beginning to stain his clothes. Yanking out his own dagger, he spun on his heels and blocked the next slash, his free hand holding his side.

Avril jumped to her feet, taking out her dagger. She saw two more guards approaching. "Clopin!"

He noticed them and shouted, "Run, Avril!"

As Clopin and his attacker locked blades, she rushed forward and slammed her shoulder into the guard's stomach, sending him tumbling back and coughing. She whirled on the other two, holding her weapon out in a shaky hand.

"I meant run the other way, _chérie," _he said jokingly, but his voice was tight with pain.

She glanced back, seeing blood running over his fingers. "Oh, Clopin . . ." Panic seized her and she grabbed his wrist. "Let's go!"

They raced from the street, heading down a narrow alley. They could hear the soldiers in pursuit. She kept a tight grip on his wrist, but he never slowed his pace. He was so light and fast.

"We can't lead them to the Court," he whispered.

"But we have to get you help," she replied, feeling her eyes begin to sting with tears. "You'll bleed to death."

He seemed to think for a moment before pushing her into a side alley. He dragged her along, even though she was still holding him, quickly down the alley. It was almost pitch black, and she squinted her eyes trying to see. He ducked behind the other side of a pile of trash, throwing himself onto the ground. She collapsed with him, their bodies intertwined, and they stayed absolutely still.

The noises of the soldiers' quick footsteps drew closer. Neither of them dared to breathe, eyes wide in the blackness. Their hearts were hammering so hard they could feel one another's through their skin. Avril's forearm was pressed against his side, and she could feel a warm liquid starting to stream over her arm. She suppressed the sob that was trying to claw its way out of her throat. How badly was he hurt?

The soldiers jogged past them, looking about. But it was so dark, and they were lying so still, that the soldiers didn't notice and they left the alley.

The two remained a moment more before slowly standing. They looked about to make sure it was clear, and Clopin leaned back against the wall, wincing.

"Let's hurry," Avril pressed.

He nodded. "Follow me. I know a shortcut."

He led her through winding alleys full of trash and smelling of alcohol and decay. The kind of places she would have never entered had it not been for his safety. They were completely alert, and every small sound would send a jolt of shock through their bodies and cause them to look around in search of a soldier. As time passed, Clopin began to hunch over. Then he began to limp and his breath was ragged.

At last the cemetery was in sight, rising up on the hill. The night was still clear and beautiful. Too beautiful for what had happened. Avril had her arm wrapped around the Gypsy King, the other across his chest to support him as they staggered up the hill to the tomb.

Her legs were aching and she was exhausted, but somehow her adrenaline kept coming strong and allowed her to carry on. They reach the tomb and Clopin kicked the lid aside with a grunt.

As he climbed in, he looked up at her, his face pale and sweaty. "Close the lid for me, _chérie."_

She did so, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. They were covered in darkness again, and made their way slowly down the stairs. He was stumbling, and she tightened her arms around him, saying, "Come on, Clopin, we're almost there. Hang on."

There was a splash and they stepped into the sewers. Avril struggled to see, the thick water sloshing against her bare legs. Suddenly Clopin almost dropped, and she had to maneuver her weight under him, pushing him back up. "No! Just-Just hold on. We're almost home." She looked about desperately. "Help! _Help!" _

She pulled him along and his head rolled to the side, his hair brushing her face. She struggled with the ever increasing weight being put on her. Hot tears streamed down her face, and she began openly sobbing.

"Help! Help us, please!"

And at last she heard splashing feet up ahead and the blossoming light of a torch. The guard gypsies were jogging up, but when they saw their King they sprinted. The next few minutes were just a blur for Avril, her body sore and tired and her eyes aching from crying – which she couldn't seem to stop. The guards took Clopin from her, picking him up as if he weighed nothing. His head fell back and his eyes were closed, and one of the gypsies put pressure on his wound as they raced through the catacombs to the Court of Miracles. For some reason, Avril couldn't seem to stop saying that name in her head.

_The Court of Miracles. _

_Court of Miracles. _

_Court of Miracles. _

_Miracles. _

_Miracle. _

She followed them into the Court, and then it was a blur of screaming and crying as they rushed through the crowds to a backroom. They laid Clopin's limp form on a table and gypsies began gathering around. Quincy pushed his way to the front, followed by Esmeralda. The girl gasped and recoiled as she saw the Gypsy King on the table.

"Get a needle and cloth!" Quincy shouted. "We have to sew this up, fast!"

Avril felt light headed as she watched the supplies quickly brought. Esmeralda was crying. Many people were crying. She felt sick as she watched a woman gypsy bend over his side, starting to sew the bloody wound shut. Another gypsy was holding a cloth, wiping up the blood.

Suddenly Avril realized that all the gypsies just standing around were beginning to glare at her. She blinked, the world coming back into focus. "Wha . . ."

A man pointed at her. "You! What did you do to him?"

Avril stared at him in surprise. "I . . ."

"Traitor!" a woman shouted.

And then there was a chorus of voices, all shouting at her accusatorily. Avril was pushed back into a wall, too shocked to say anything even if she had been given the chance.

Suddenly Esmeralda was at her side. She grabbed her arm and dragged her from the room. Avril stole one last look at the unconscious Clopin before she entered the main section of the Court of Miracles, now with only a sparse population.

"Esmeralda, I didn't-"

"Go," the gypsy girl said in a firm voice. "Just go."

A sick feeling entered the pit of her stomach. "Go? Where?"

"Leave the Court of Miracles. Leave now."

While her expression was unreadable, her tone offered no room for argument. Avril looked back at the gathering of gypsies crowded about the room. Most of them were fixing her with death glares.

Avril took a few steps back, and then turned and ran.

HoND

Avril walked aimlessly down the streets of Paris, her arms wrapped around herself. Night hung like a veil over her. She had stopped crying; she no longer had the energy. She felt drained in every sense of the word. She was in shock, she supposed, but the only thing that kept plaguing her mind was if Clopin was all right. If he was alive.

She was digging inward, trying to protect herself from the world. She had blocked out her environment so much that when two guards leaped from the shadows and grabbed her, she was caught completely off-guard. It took her a moment to process what was happening. Then she began struggling and screaming protests. A hand clamped over her mouth, and she could do nothing as they began to drag her down the streets.

HoND

Frollo stood at a long window, staring out across Paris. He was pondering over the situation with the Desmarais girl. Where was she? He wasn't keen on losing, but perhaps it would be best to just give up the search. Maybe she wasn't with the gypsies after all. He was wasting valuable men on her search. Men that otherwise could be helping him catch gypsies doing crime and look for the Court of Miracles.

Suddenly the door burst open. Frollo whirled on the intruder, a scowl forming that quickly dissolved when he saw Gervais Leveque. His nephew was panting and sweaty, his eyes wide.

"Gervais?" Frollo asked, clasping his hands in front of them. "My dear boy, what has happened?"

Taking a moment to catch his breath, he said, "I found Avril, Uncle. I informed the guards, and I just got word that they've captured her."

"Excellent. Her parents will be pleased."

Gervais stared at him, his green eyes leaking pain. But he remained silent.

Frollo raised one eyebrow. "Is something wrong, Gervais?"

Silence.

He took a step forward. "Is something wrong with the Desmarais girl?"

After another pause, Gervais nodded. "I think she's in trouble."

What had happened was written plainly over his nephew's expression and in his tone. Keeping himself outwardly composed, Judge Claude Frollo allowed himself an inward smirk. "Tell me."

**End of Part II**

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><p><strong>Leave a review if you'd like to hear more!<strong>

**By the way, if you don't know already, the Gypsy Wedding Song is a real song that didn't make it into the movie titled "As Long as There's a Moon". You can see the DVD extra about it and hear it on YouTube. It's so beautiful!  
><strong>


	11. Chapter 11

**Yay, a quick update! I haven't been able to stop writing this! Thanks for the reviews, they made me so happy! I'm glad you all are enjoying this. –hugs - And I'd like to respond to one: **

**Sliceofpie: **Thank you! Yeah, I considered that with Frollo, but decided against it. I thought I'd just leave that with Esmeralda, since she's so beautiful. ;) And it's been forever since I've updated my LoZ fic, hasn't it? I really need to work on it. Though, I've been more obsessed with HoND, obviously. 8D

**Disclaimer: I don't own HoND. It was written by Victor Hugo, and adapted to a cartoon by Disney from which this is based.**

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><p><strong>CH. 11<strong>

**Part III  
><strong>

Clopin sat on his bed, his back resting against the wall. He wore a loose white shirt that was thin enough he could see the bandages wrapped around his middle. A blanket covered his legs, a plate still sitting on his lap with uneaten food.

He kept replaying the events of last night, trying to bring more clarity. But after he'd been injured, it was all one blur. He remembered racing through the streets, which was a just a dark, windy rush. He definitely recalled hiding behind a pile of trash, mostly because it stunk so badly. The last thing he remembered clearly was seeing the cemetery. After that, nothing. The only thing that was sharp in his memory was the pain. He touched his side and winced. It still hurt, but not nearly as badly. He'd been told they'd sewed him up, and that he'd lost a lot of blood. Which explained the weakness and light-headedness he felt.

The purple blanket covering the threshold was pushed aside and Esmeralda came in. She offered him a smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Mmmm."

Her green eyes dropped to the plate. "Clopin, you have to eat. It's the only way you'll gain your strength back."

He crossed his arms, giving her a narrowed-eye look. "You, Quincy, and every other gypsy has been dodging this question all day. I demand an answer. Where is Avril?"

Esmeralda sighed. "Clopin, you need to focus on-"

"_Where is Avril?" _He paused, then sighed. His voice was softer as he said, "Please, Esme, I need to know. I'm worried."

Her shoulders slumped in surrender. "You're not going to like it."

"Is she hurt?" His dark eyes widened.

"No, no. She's not hurt." Esmeralda sat on the end of the bed, Djali trotting in after her. She patted the goat's head as she said, "You were unconscious and bleeding when we brought you into the Court. Avril had your blood on her, too. And, well, the gypsies turned against her. They thought-"

"Oh, _merde!" _he swore, bringing one hand to his head. "They thought she tried to kill me?"

She shrugged helplessly. "Well, Clo, what else would that look like?"

"Why would she try to kill me, then try to save me?"

"I don't think she did, all right? I believe what you told me earlier: you were attacked by soldiers. But that's how Lucien had fellow gypsies killed, too. We just suffered one traitor, everyone is more sensitive now. Avril's different. She's not entirely trusted. Well, not by the majority. I did what I did to protect her and my people."

His eyes narrowed. "What did you do?"

She looked at her goat, biting her lip. "I . . . sent her away."

"You _what?" _

She looked back up at him. "I told her to leave the Court of Miracles. And she did." As another curse word flew from him, she leaned forward, eyes wide and pleading. "Clopin, listen to me."

Seeing the sadness in her gaze, he relaxed and sighed. "Yes?"

"I didn't know what to do. Everyone was angry. I thought she would get hurt or even killed. I told her to leave so that she'd be protected."

"Protected from the people she sought refuge with," he said with a dark gaze.

She let out her breath, sitting back. "I know, Clopin, I know. But you must realize how that looked. Maybe it was a bad decision, but I just did what I could to control the situation." Her voice became quieter as she added, "I was so worried about you."

He leaned forward, grabbing her hand. "Hey, _chérie, _I'm not angry with you. _Désolé. _I'm just worried about Avril." He sat back. "I'm going to go look for her."

Esmeralda jumped to her feet. "Oh, no you're not! You need to rest. You lost so much blood, Clo, you were bleeding all over the place!"

He sniffed. "I'm sure it wasn't that dramatic."

"It was. I'll have someone else go look for her. I'll have Quincy. He likes her."

He paused, then nodded. "Very well."

Esmeralda studied him. "Clopin . . . don't you dare sneak out."

He threw up his arms in exasperation. "Which one of us is older here, Esme? Stop worrying, I'll live."

She realized he didn't actually respond to her comment, but ignored it. Something else had been pressing at her. "Hey . . . can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure. I have nothing else to do."

She sat back down on the bed and began messing with her clothes nervously. "You and Avril . . . Are you two . . . Does she like you? Do you like her?"

Clopin chuckled. "Well, I should think-"

"_You know what I mean."_

He instantly deflated, looking at the wall. There was a moment of silence before he turned back to her, "I believe so, yes." He was startled to see Esmeralda's expression fall, and her gaze drop sadly to the floor. "What's wrong? I've had girlfriends before, it's not anything new."

"But it is new," she responded, meeting his eyes again. "Because I've never seen you act the way you do around Avril before. You spend so much time with her; you're always smiling and laughing. You look at her too long. You two act like magnets; constantly drawn to one another. I've . . . I've never seen you behave quite like this. And it's not even the behavior so much. It's the way you look at her. And . . ." she sighed. "And the way she looks at you."

He tilted his head to the side, staring at her rueful expression. "Why does this bother you?"

His tone wasn't harsh or annoyed. He sounded sincerely concerned, like he cared that something, anything, was making her unhappy. And, of course, he did. They were like brother and sister. And that was the one thing that was making her sad. "Clopin . . . if you're serious with Avril . . ." She drew in on herself, giving a small shrug. "It feels like I'm losing you." She quickly corrected herself. "I'm not jealous. It's not that. But . . . we won't be like siblings anymore, because you'll have a wife. You won't spend as much time with me. And I'm scared because I don't want you to get your heart broken. I want you to be with someone who deserves you."

He blinked, processing all her words. It was a lot to take in, and raw emotion was behind it all. He wasn't sure what to say at first, so he stayed quiet for a few moments before venturing, "Esmeralda, dear. I love you very much. You know that. As for Avril and I's relationship, I don't know what will happen. There's no use in worrying about a future that is unsure. And even then, there's nothing toworry _about_. You're my only sister; nothing could change your place in my life. As for the last bits," he leaned forward, wincing at the slight pain**,** and planted a kiss on her cheek, "thank you for caring so much."

She smiled as he sat back. Then gave a small laugh and said, "You probably think I sound ridiculous."

"Not at all." He sighed. "Relationships are complicated."

Esmeralda gave him a wry look. "Fifi always says that. Don't try to claim her wisdom as your own."

He chuckled, and she was happy to see him smile so brightly again.

She climbed off the bed and gave him a kiss in return. "I'll let you rest. See you later?"

He nodded. "I'll talk to you later."

Esmeralda left his room and stood in the hall for a moment. She felt good. It was nice to get that off her chest, and to tell him the truth about what happened to Avril. That thought made her look a few feet down to the threshold that was Avril's room.

Esmeralda pushed past the sheet and went into it, looking around. It was kept very clean. Parchments lay on her bed. She must have been drawing the last time she'd come in.

The gypsy girl sat down on the bed, picking up the pages. She shook her head at the depictions of the Court of Miracles. These were so good. She thumbed through them until one caught her eye. She stared at it, feeling her chest tighten.

It was of Clopin, looking pensively into the distance. It was a perfect replication, even down to the way the light reflected in his eyes. She obviously had taken the work very seriously, because there were no rough lines or half-done shading to be found.

She looked at the next page and found another drawing of Clopin. In this he was smiling, arms spread as if he was performing. He was wearing his brightly colored outfit, his eyes standing out in the mask.

The next page was another drawing, this one of him holding up the puppet replica of himself, another grin on his face.

Esmeralda shook her head, pressing her lips together. Then she dropped the pages, stood up, and decided to head into Paris to look for Avril herself.

HoND

Avril lied on her bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling. It was night outside, and her room was very dark due to her not bothering to light a lantern. Through the window she could see the lights of Paris, and even the Palace of Justice. But she didn't look, because it made her feel sick.

She still had on her gypsy clothes, multiple layers of blue, but she'd lost her hat escaping from the guards the night before. Her dagger was hidden, and that was the way she wanted to keep it.

The soldiers that had captured her had instantly taken her back home. She had received a storm of yelling, insulting, and crying from her parents. She had weathered it all silently. She didn't have the energy to fight back. She'd simply allowed them to lock her in her room and had stayed there ever since. Silvine had come in that morning with breakfast, but hadn't said a word to her. Only half of it was eaten, and Avril had only eaten that during dinner time. She didn't have much of an appetite.

She knew she could try to run away again. Just a simple slip out of the window, a climb down, and she could disappear into the streets of Paris. Nothing was stopping her.

But she couldn't. Where would she go? Her new family had rejected her. The gypsies thought she'd tried to kill their King, coincidentally a man her feelings had grown very strong for. A man that she had kissed, right before everything slipped away.

Pain gripped her chest. Was he okay? Was he alive?

There was another thought that darkened her mood. Did Gervais betray her? After he ran off, had he told the guards where she was? It could have been a coincidence. Guards were always patrolling the streets, after all. But he hadn't been happy when he had left. She had always thought Gervais a kind young man. But she supposed his prejudice against the gypsies ran stronger than his kindness towards her. If she had been alone, if she hadn't been kissing Clopin, would he have sent for the guards?

_That kiss. _The memory itself sent a wave of heat through her. She could still feel his hands on her waist, the curve of his jaw under her fingers, the wet warmth of his mouth on hers, and the way his skin smelled.

_At least, _she thought, _if I never get to go back, I have that memory to hold onto. _

"Avril!"

She frowned, hearing her name whispered.

"Avril!"

She sat up, her muscles aching from being in one position for so long. She looked around her room and saw a shadow outside the window. She rolled off the bed, hurrying to it. She opened the window and peered out, the night breeze tugging at her pale blonde hair.

Clopin was climbing up to the tiny balcony under window, dressed in his simple purple tunic and dark colors to help him blend in to the shadows. His hat concealed his face, but upon hearing the window open he looked up, and smiled a smile that Avril thought could blind the sun.

"Clopin!" She could barely keep her voice a whisper. Her nerves were sent on edge, her heart pounding. "You're alive! Thank God, you're alive!"

He grabbed the railing of the balcony, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. His side was aching, but he ignored it. He looked up at her. "Of course I'm alive, _chérie, _it takes more than that to kill the King of the Gypsies."

She climbed out of her window in one swift movement, planted her hands on the railing, and kissed him. He kissed her back, pushing with his hands to get higher until he could climb over the rail. They wrapped their arms around each other, and kept kissing until he hissed, pulling back slightly.

Avril let go. "Oh, your side. I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "I'm fine. Just a little tender. Like chicken. I love tender chicken."

She giggled. "Come on inside before someone sees us."

They both went into her room, and she closed the window behind her. He looked around for a moment, nodding. Then he said, "I'd say four gypsies is shooting too low. Eight could live in this room easily."

She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Yeah, it's . . . rather grand." She bit her lip, bouncing with excitement. "How did you find my house?"

"You showed it to me, remember? Last night. I have a good memory." He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Esmeralda went looking for you. She was out all day. She returned a few hours ago saying she couldn't find you anywhere. And, well, I figured you might have been caught."

She put her hands on her hips playfully. "Did you have so little faith in me?"

He grinned. "Well, a whole twenty-four hours on your own in Paris with no place to go can put anyone in a dangerous situation. Plus Gervais already knew what you looked like now. Come on," he stood up. "Let's get you home. To your real home."

"I can go back to the Court?" Hope blossomed in her heart.

He nodded. "Yes, you can go back. I'm so sorry about what happened, but I'll make it right. I promise."

The door to her room suddenly burst open, and a small group of soldiers poured in, swords out. Avril took a step back while Clopin took a step forward, going for his dagger. But two soldiers pushed against him. He managed to block their blades, but pain shot through his wound and he uttered a cry, being forced back onto the bed. He felt the cold burn of a sword at his throat, and looked up to see the two guards kneeling beside him, one with a sword against him and the other pointed at him.

Avril backed up as the other two guards approached her. They seemed ready to pounce until a shocked voice from the doorway shouted, "Stop! Don't hurt her!"

Avril and Clopin looked over to see her parents, Silvine and Bernard, enter the room. Silvine's blonde curls were piled on her head, and she was clad in an elegant silver gown. Bernard's brown hair was still perfectly smoothed back, his clean shaven face etched in surprise.

Avril yanked out her dagger and held it out purposefully. Her eyes darted from her parents, to Clopin, to the guards. Then she shouted, "Let him go!"

Silvine's eyes were wide. "Are you out of your _mind?" _

"Let him go!"

"Avril, he's a gypsy," Bernard said. "Please, come with us. We'll help you."

She tightened her grip on the hilt, her palms sweaty. "I will. I'll come with you. I won't fight. But only if you let him go _right now!" _

Shivers went up her spine as a smooth, deep voice from the hall said, "Unfortunately, that's not a bargain you can make."

The entire room seemed to darken as Judge Claude Frollo swept into it, his black robe swishing with his movements. He had his hands steepled in front of him, his eyes taking in the scene.

Clopin swallowed, feeling his gut clench. This was so, so bad.

Panic started to flutter through Avril. She turned the dagger on Frollo, even though he was on the other side of the room. "You will not hurt him. He hasn't done anything wrong."

Frollo looked to her distraught parents. "As you can see, the gypsies have already corrupted your daughter."

Silvine brought her hand to her head. "Is there anything we can do?"

Frollo nodded. "I will help you daughter, _Madame. _I will take her to the Palace of Justice and devote all of my time to her until she is . . . purified. Guards," he turned back to Avril, "seize her."

There was little Avril could do once the soldiers attacked. She struggled and screamed, but it wasn't long until they had twisted her arms behind her back, forcing her to drop the dagger.

Silvine gasped. "The Palace of Justice, Your Honor? I . . . I'm not sure-"

"This is the only way, I am sorry," Frollo replied quickly. "Guards, take her and that gypsy filth to the Palace, but in separate carriages. Normal procedure for the gypsy, take Avril to an empty chamber. I will be there shortly."

"_No!" _Avril screamed, dragging her feet as the guards pulled her towards the door. "_No! _Mother, Father, don't let them! Frollo will kill us!" She didn't think the Judge would actually kill her, being that she was highborn. But she knew simply pleading for Clopin's life would be a lost cause.

The last thing she heard was Silvine crying. The last thing she saw was Clopin being yanked off the bed, his wide eyes locked on hers, before she was pulled into the hallway. She began to cry as a soldier picked her up and carried her the rest of the way outside the house. She was then thrown into a carriage and the door was slammed shut.

She was Frollo's prisoner.

HoND

Claude Frollo stared at the fireplace inside the Palace of Justice, watching the flames. Its warmth soothed him, but his mind was abuzz with what he would do next. Paris was still asleep outside the long windows, the rest of the room cast into blue shadow.

The gypsy was in a dungeon cell, left alone for now. Avril had been locked into a small guest room, one without a window. He had had to spend a few minutes assuring her parents that it was for the best, and that not only would their old daughter be back soon, but that she would be an excellent citizen.

Of that he wasn't certain, nor did he care. It was obvious now. Avril had stayed in the Court of Miracles and became a gypsy. She knew where their secret haven was. He had to get the information out of her.

This particularly excited him, because no gypsy had ever cracked under his interrogations. Not a single one would reveal the location. Not even the traitorous Lucien had. There was no reason for him to assume the male gypsy they had captured would be any more cooperative.

However, Avril wasn't a real gypsy. Perhaps, culturally, she was changing. But even then she was new. She wasn't used to the hard life. She may have understood the dire circumstances, but she couldn't have the same drive as the others to protect their home. Plus she was fragile. A sophisticated, pampered young woman. She would crack.

But that presented a problem. What could he do to her? He couldn't torture her, as much as he wanted to. Her parents and the entire elite of Paris would be shocked. He couldn't risk losing their support, as much as he hated it. Psychologically torturing her wouldn't help much, either. He needed her mind intact if she was to supply him with the information he needed.

But there was already a solution to that problem. The gypsy that was in their dungeons. They obviously had a relationship. Gervais had told him that he'd found them kissing. And now the gypsy had come to her house, presumably to rescue her. The thought that she could fall in love with a gypsy made Frollo feel sick, but it did present the perfect opportunity.

He would torture the gypsy until Avril told him where the Court of Miracles was. He already had plenty of plans in his mind on how to go about this. Each one brought a smile to his face. Additionally this route offered another solution. Self-sacrifice, for the strong minded, was quite easy. That's why the gypsies would rather die than give up the Court. But when you had to sacrifice someone else . . . That's when it was difficult.

Frollo was sure Avril wouldn't let her gypsy love die. It was only a matter of time. And he intended to devote all of to his two new guests.

There was a knock and the door opened, a soldier looking in. "My lord? You asked me to come back in an hour?"

Frollo turned around. "Yes, yes. We are ready to begin."

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews motivate me to keep writing! <strong>

**For those interested, I thought I'd tell you a little on how I came up with this story:**

**-Inception****: (couldn't resist) The inception of Mimesis came about through music. I really hope I'm not the only one who does this, but when I listen to music, I imagine , or think about, what I'm currently obsessed with.**

**Well, I was currently obsessed with HoND, which I had only recently discovered and fell in love with. So I was flipping through songs on my ipod to listen to ones that reminded me of HoND. And, more specifically, the sexy gypsy Clopin that had instantly arrested my attention the first time I saw him on the screen.**

**As you can imagine, there weren't too many songs that were applicable to the Gypsy King. So, I took some liberties and allowed a story to invent itself to go along with the song.**

**Well, most songs are about love, so I needed to imagine a love interest for Clopin. I didn't have a name for Avril, I didn't even have a steady image. But as more songs passed, I gradually kept adding onto the same story - which I initially hadn't intended. It just worked out that way. A remember a certain song needed a snooty girl to go along with Avril: in comes Brigette. Much of the plot was developed this way.**

**Well, I'll be darned! I loved the idea that had suddenly come. I outlined it on paper and then did the necessary research. I looked up French words and made a list, I also went to and looked at French names. I named all my major characters and then kept a list for any minor characters that needed names.**

**-Interesting fact: I hadn't even intended for Quincy to be an important character. It wasn't until after I wrote his first scene that I decided I liked him and wanted to bring him back.**

**-Interesting fact 2: In the early stages of outlining, I was bouncing between making Avril from Asia so that she would blend in with the gypsies, or making her from rural France and being really pale so that she wouldn't blend in. I decided the ladder would prove more fascinating.**


	12. Chapter 12

**CH. 12**

Clopin struggled with the shackles around his wrists for what seemed like the millionth time. But all he accomplished was rubbing the skin raw. He'd once heard that insanity was defined by doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting a different result. He supposed that meant he was officially insane. But anything was better than just sitting miserably.

He was in a cell in the dungeons of the Palace of Justice. Slimy, cold stone walls bordered on three sides, and the front of the cell was blocked in my thick bars. He sat against the back wall, his hands chained above his head, just close enough that he could bend his elbows, but the chain didn't have enough length for him to move far. His hat had fallen off when the soldiers had yanked him off the bed, and his side was still aching from the confrontation. He hadn't worn his gloves when he'd left the Court, and now he wished he had. It would make the shackles hurt less.

The environment itself wasn't friendly. He smelled rust, dirt, and decay. Parts of the cell he was in had dark red stains as did the chains around his wrists –dried blood. It was very dark, only a torch somewhere outside the cells provided soft light.

But none of that was first on his mind. He couldn't stop thinking about Avril. Where was she in this horrible place of injustice? Was she being treated well? Had Frollo already begun interrogating her?

He gave a short laugh. She was probably being treated better than he was.

He tried to not go down that path of thought, but he couldn't help mentally preparing himself to say good-bye to her. How long would Frollo allow him to live? Would he even see Avril again? He just hoped that she got out of this place and escaped back to the Court. Esmeralda would take care of her. Then she'd never have to see the life she despised so much again.

He ran his tongue over his lips, still tasting the two kisses they'd shared. He tried to hold onto that. It was a comfort. His only light in a world of darkness. He briefly thought and worried about the rest of his people. What Esmeralda would think. How they all would go on without him. If they'd ever find out what had happened. But since he and Avril had been thrust into the same situation, she was first on his mind.

_There's another reason, Clopin, don't fool yourself, _he thought. _You're falling in love with her. _

He shut that down instantly. Oh, no. He couldn't afford a broken heart right now. He had to be strong. Strong enough to endure whatever Judge Frollo threw at him.

Just then he heard a door open and a rhythmic pacing of steps. The figure of the Minister of Justice stopped outside his cell, seeming darker than the shadows that choked up the area.

Clopin laughed. "Frollo! I was wondering when you'd grace me with your presence."

The Judge stared down his nose at him. "Your insolence, gypsy, will get you nowhere. What is your name?"

Clopin shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable on the hard floor. "I wouldn't think you'd like to know. Might that humanize me?"

"I want to know what to call you for when I talk to the Desmarais girl."

Clopin stared at him blankly for a moment. Then his brow furrowed. "Avril, you mean?"

"Yes," Frollo gave one nod. "That's her first name. I suppose she never gave you her last name."

She hadn't, and Clopin hadn't pursued. What did it matter? Perhaps she left her last name so that she wouldn't be tied to her family anymore. Sudden seriousness overtook his tone, his eyes boring into the Judge's. "Where is she?"

"She's fine for now."

"That wasn't my question."

"I'll see to it that you two see one another soon." He couldn't help the smile that tugged at one corner of his mouth. "We'd hate for young love to go to waste, wouldn't we?"

There was no use denying it. Frollo had seen them both in Avril's room together, and he was sure Gervais had reported them kissing. Clopin set his jaw, narrowing his eyes, and didn't respond.

Frollo asked again, "What is your name, gypsy?"

" . . . Clopin."

He took a breath and continued, "You have one chance, Clopin. I'll only ask you this once, and you only have once to answer. Where is the Court of Miracles?"

Clopin spat at the Judge. Even though he was too far to be reached, it went further than he'd expected, landing near the bars. He then fixed Frollo with a fiery glare.

"I thought as much," the Minister of Justice said calmly. "Very well. I shall be seeing you later." He glanced to the side. "Rupert Thomas?"

There was a clanging of metal and a guard walked up. He was tall and broad, covered in armor and holding a large sword. He was rather plain looking, with a brown bearded face and blue eyes.

Frollo turned back to Clopin. "He will be your permanent guard to make sure you don't pull anything . . . sly." He looked at Rupert. "Guard him at all times, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Clopin laughed. "The man's got to sleep at some point."

Frollo simply narrowed his eyes and walked off.

HoND

Avril sat on the edge of the bed, twisting her blue scarf between her hands. The room she was in was small and square, with only a simple bed and a dresser. But she didn't have anything to put in it. On top of the dresser sat a large lantern to provide more light since there were no windows.

It had been completely quiet since she'd arrived, and no one had come to speak to her. She was locked in, and she had tried several times to unlock it. She was almost tempted to try and beat the door down, but that was sure to draw attention.

She felt overwhelmed. It was too much. First she and Clopin had kissed, then she'd seen Gervais, then they had been attacked, she was afraid Clopin would die as they rushed to the Court of Miracles, then she'd been kicked out, caught by soldiers, returned home, Clopin had come for her, and finally Frollo had taken them as prisoners.

She sighed. Too much. It was way too much.

There was a jangle of keys and a lock clicked. She stood up quickly as the door opened, letting in Frollo. He closed and locked the door behind him.

She looked him over. "What, no guard?"

"Presently I don't think you're very much of a threat," he responded calmly. "But there is a soldier outside the door."

"Where's Clopin?"

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "My dear girl, you must realize that you have no reason to care for that creature. You were tempted by gypsies and gave in. I am here to try to help you."

"Where is he?"

"I'll allow you to see him soon enough."

"I want to see him _now." _

Frollo regarded her with a raised eyebrow. "My, my, you're quite impatient. Why don't you have a seat."

She crossed her arms tightly. "I don't want to. I want to know where Clopin is."

"How about you and I strike a compromise?"

Her eyebrows lowered suspiciously. "A compromise?"

"Yes. One that will cleanse your soul and help every citizen of Paris. And, if you hold up your end, I will let you and your . . . Clopin . . . go free."

Doubt gnawed at her. She knew she shouldn't believe anything he said. She kept remembering him killing that gypsy for no reason. He wasn't a man to be trusted. He wasn't an honest man. Still, she was interested. "I'm listening."

"All you have to do is provided me with one piece of information, and then this will all be over."

She felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff; her breath was swept away and her gut was tightening. _Oh, no . . ._

"Tell me the location of the Court of Miracles."

Her stomach twisted sickeningly and her head became light. He knew she'd been there! But of course he knew. She was found with a gypsy, she was dressed as a gypsy. And now he wanted her to give it up.

"I'll never tell you that," Avril said evenly, impressed by her own bravery.

Frollo stared down at her. "You shouldn't refuse me. I have ways of changing your mind, ones I'm not too thrilled to use. I'd rather us resolve this peacefully."

She gave a half-crazed laugh, her heart pounding. "What are you going to do, _torture me? _How will you explain that to my parents?" As his eyes narrowed, she continued, "Be honest, Judge Frollo. This has nothing to with 'cleansing my soul' or appeasing my parents. I lived with the gypsies. I know what kind of man you are. All this is about is finding the location the Court of Miracles. Let's not lie to one another. That's a sin, after all."

She immediately knew that last jab hadn't been a wise one. His mouth tightened, his eyes blazed. She was afraid he would strike her until he seemed to get back control over himself. He calmed, shoulders leveling. He opened the door and took one step back into the threshold. "You will be denied any food until you comply. Think of it as a 'purifying fast', if you will." He gave a thin smile. "I hope you'll be more flexible next time we speak."

With that the door shut and he was gone.

HoND

Esmeralda stood at the top of the cemetery as dawn light broke out across Paris. It tinged the sky orange and pink, and the bells of Notre Dame began tolling. Her brow creased as wind blew her thick black hair from her face.

There was the sound of footsteps and Quincy's massive form came up beside her. He paused a moment before saying, "I'm taking a group of myself and three gypsies into the city to search for him. We'll look for Avril, too. If we don't find them, we'll come back at sunset." Another pause. "Will you stay here in case he returns?"

She sighed and gave a quick nod. "Yes, I'll stay." Normally she would refuse being left out of the action. However, if Clopin or Avril came back, she wanted to be there.

Esmeralda watched as the four gypsies made their way down the hill and out of the cemetery, a few glancing back at her. She avoided their gazes, instead sweeping her eyes over the area. The figures disappeared into the city and still she didn't move. The graves were silent around her.

_Where are you, Clopin?  
><em>"Oh, don't worry." It was Fifi's voice as the plump, motherly gypsy came up next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I'm sure he's fine. Clopin's been in plenty of tough situations before and somehow manages to squirm out of them. I'm sure he's found Avril and is just convincing her to return." Fifi shook her head. "The poor dear. I can't believe the way some folks turned on her!"

Esmeralda sighed. "He's injured, Fifi. I told him not to go out. He _shouldn't_ have gone out."

"He does his own thing, _chérie. _He always has."

Esmeralda's shoulders just drooped as she watched Paris ruefully.

Fifi gave her a soft squeeze. "Don't you worry. I'm sure he'll turn up before nightfall."

HoND

Avril wasn't sure how long it had been, but she knew it was nothing short of hours.

She was beginning to get hungry, but ignored it. She knew humans could go without food for quite some time. Only once a guard had opened the door just long enough to deposit a glass of water and then sealed her once again in her homely prison. She had passed the time by pacing the room, lying on the bed, looking through the empty drawers of the dresser, stretching her limbs, and thinking of how Clopin was, what Frollo was going to do next, and how to escape.

She flopped once again onto the bed, rubbing her temples in an effort to stop her growing headache. She looked up at the ceiling, "Please, God, help us through this."

There was a rattling of keys and Frollo entered, followed by two soldiers bearing torches. Avril stood, holding her chin high.

"Have you changed your mind?" Frollo asked, raising one eyebrow as if he already knew the answer.

"No, I have not."

"Then you will come with me."

She glanced between the two guards, both who seemed ready for action. So she steadied herself and walked over to them. Frollo shut the door and they made their way down the hall. The Judge was in lead, followed by Avril with both soldiers flanking her. The halls they passed were dark and made of stone. Once they went by a window, and she was shocked to see the sun sinking into a bloody sunset. She had been trapped in that room all day?

"Where are we going?" she asked.

It was a few moments before Frollo responded, "Patience."

She huffed silently, taking to fiddling with her scarf again. As if he could sense her actions, the Judge said, "That's quite the ensemble you're wearing. I assume you got it from your gypsy friends."

"I did," she replied levelly.

"I suppose you can dress like them if you want. But you do not look like them physically. You're as pale as death, with colorless hair and eyes."

Glancing up at the back of his head quizzically, she asked, "What am I to you, then? A gypsy, or not?"

He didn't answer, so she contented herself to studying the measured pacing of his steps. He was like a moving statue. They reached spiral stairs descending down. The torches just lit up a circle around them, behind and in front fading into black. The air got colder, and a sharp metallic smell began to stain it. She frowned, knowing she had smelled it somewhere before.

Her stomach dropped as she realized what it was. _Blood. _She had smelled it the last time she was in the Palace of Justice, walking in on Frollo torturing and killing a gypsy. She began to sweat, her heart pounding. What was he going to do?

They reached the bottom and Avril was faced with a long stone passage lined with prison cells. Torches were set before every three, dimly lighting the area. Frollo just kept walking, and she peered past the guard to see into the cells they went by. Most were empty. She saw a dead body rotting in one, and she almost dry-heaved. Dried blood and heavy shackles were in every single prison. She saw some bones in the corner of one. She began to feel sick.

At last Frollo stopped. He inclined his head to the cell he was before. "Why don't you have a look, my dear?"

Both soldiers took one step aside. Avril eyed them, and then eyed the soldier that had been standing on the opposite side of the cell, guarding it since they came in. He didn't even glance at her. She walked past them and looked into the prison, bracing herself for what she might see.

Her knees gave out as she saw Clopin looking back at her, his hands chained above his head, sitting against the back wall. He started. "Avril!"

She grabbed the bars. "Clopin!" She looked back at Frollo angrily. "Let him go! He won't tell you where the Court of Miracles is, he's of no use to you."

The same sentence died on Clopin's lips as he watched the Judge sneer. He obviously had something in mind, and Clopin knew it wasn't going to be pleasant.

Frollo nodded to a guard. "Stand her up."

The man did so, grabbing her arm and pulling her off the floor. He held her tightly, but her gaze was still transfixed on the gypsy.

Frollo seemed as calm as ever as he faced Avril. "Since you have refused to tell me where the Court of Miracles is by yourself, I think you may need some motivation. Rupert," he glanced back at the soldier that had been guarding the cell. "Give him our traditional start, if you please."

Rupert grinned. "Yes, sir."

_Uh-oh, _Clopin thought as the soldier took out a set of keys. There was metallic jangling as he unlocked the cell and walked in, closing the door behind him.

"What are you going to do?" Avril asked, her voice strained with alarm. Her pale blue eyes moved to Clopin, and she saw one message clearly in his gaze: _Don't tell Frollo where the Court is._

Rupert kneeled beside Clopin, but he didn't take his eyes from Avril. He hoped she knew what he was trying to convey to her. Their deaths were nothing compared to the rest of the gypsies. As he heard the sound of a dagger being drawn, he thought he was going to throw up. He throat constricted and his head felt light. Avril's eyes were impossibly wide, her jaw tight, as she watched.

Rupert took the dagger and touched the tip to Clopin's palm. He held the gypsy's forearm still with his other hand, as though he expected Clopin to try and elbow him.

The pain was sharp as Rupert drew the blade across his hand, leaving a red line. Clopin bit down on his tongue so he wouldn't make noise. As the slow slice continued, he squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head to side. _Don't cry out. Don't cry out. _

Avril pulled against the soldier's grip. "N-no, please stop!"

As the blade reached the end of Clopin's hand, Rupert drew it away and stood up. The gypsy let out his breath, opening his eyes again. Trickles of blood were sliding down his wrist and pooling at the metal shackle.

"Have you changed your mind?" Frollo asked. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

She met Clopin's gaze again, and saw his dark eyes cloudy with pain. Still, she kept her mouth closed, feeling tears pull.

"Hmm," Frollo sighed. "What shall we cut next, Rupert?"

The soldier chuckled. "How about his face? Stop him from winning over any more ladies."

"No!" Avril shouted, pulling against the guard. "Please don't!"

Rupert kneeled again and grabbed a fistful of Clopin's hair, yanking it to hold his head still. He brought the dagger to his cheekbone.

_"Stop!" _Avril screamed, wrenching violently and getting her arm free. The guard went for her, but Frollo held up a single hand calmly. Everyone paused, looking at him.

"Would you like to tell me the information?" Frollo asked.

Avril turned back to Clopin and saw his eyes snap to her, giving her an answer: _Don't tell Frollo where the Court is. _

Her body was trembling as she looked between him, the soldiers, and that dagger resting on his skin.

Seeming satisfied, Frollo said, "Leave him, Rupert. I think our guest would like some time alone in her room to think this over."

Clopin felt faint from relief as the guard released his hair and stood up, walking out of the cell. As the two other soldiers began to lead Avril away, she seemed limp in their arms, still staring at him. She didn't look away until he couldn't see her anymore.

Clopin felt his heart calming down. He glanced at his bloody palm and then back to Rupert, who had resumed his position against the wall. "That was something, wasn't it?"

He didn't respond.

"No, I'm being serious. I've never seen a dagger handled so clumsily before. Have you had any training?"

Rupert's blue eyes dropped to him. "Shut your mouth, _gypsy, _or I'll cut that."

Clopin laughed. "Silly boy, cutting my mouth wouldn't stop my ability to talk. And they call _me _uneducated. Unless you meant my tongue or throat. Neither of which Frollo would be too happy about."

Rupert looked extremely annoyed and averted his gaze once again.

"Come on, _cheri. _We're both getting bored. A little conversation would be fun!"

Clopin knew this was one of those times Esmeralda would tell him that he goes too far. But thinking of her instantly dampened his spirits, so he was glad when Rupert didn't rise up to the taunt.

He only hoped Avril wouldn't rise to Frollo's, either.

**Please Review!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Thanks everyone for the reviews! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own HoND. **

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><p><strong>CH. 13 <strong>

Esmeralda waited restlessly in the meeting room of the Court of Miracles. She sat in one of the chairs that surrounded a wooden table. A single oil lantern sat in the center. Quincy sat in a chair beside her, his large body barely fitting into it.

As an entire day had passed without any sign of Clopin, the gypsies called an emergency meeting. It was a loose "council" of lead gypsies that Clopin usually consulted with. Esmeralda wasn't necessarily included among them, but since she was so close to their King she was as much involved in the workings of the Court as anyone else.

"How long is it going to take for them to come?" she huffed, crossing her arms.

Quincy looked down at her, his bald head and gold tooth shining in the lantern light. His usually bouncing, jovial voice was heavy with worry as he replied, "They will be here soon."

As if on cue, the door opened and three gypsies filed in. One was Michel, a bearded average-sized man, who had recently helped track down Lucien as their traitor. Another was Oriel, a robust woman, who had spied along with Michel that night. The third was an elderly, graying woman named Sabine, who was the eldest gypsy alive.

"Sorry for making you wait," Michel said as they all took their places at the table. "Shall we begin?"

Uneasy glances were exchanged. It didn't feel right, using a council to lead instead of having Clopin. His absence was overwhelmingly felt, as it was throughout the entire Court.

"Yesterday I took a group of three other gypsies into Paris," Quincy began, his scarred arms resting on the table. "We searched well into the night, and couldn't find Clopin."

"Do you think there are areas left unsearched?" Oriel asked.

"Of course there are!" Esmeralda snapped. "If there weren't, we would have found Clopin by now!"

Sabine rested a withered hand on the young girl's arm. "Calm yourself, dear. We are all here with an equal goal in mind."

The fire dwindled and Esmeralda let out her breath. "Sorry."

"We didn't do a very thorough search," Quincy continued. "We didn't look in all the stores, down all the alleys, or the like. We didn't think we'd need to."

"It appears we do," Michel said.

"He's injured, he may have sought temporary shelter somewhere," Oriel said. "Maybe he got into a run in with the guards and is hiding out. Maybe he's still looking for Avril." She gave a tight smile. "Hope is not lost."

"Of course it isn't," Quincy nodded.

"Then what do we propose to do?" Sabine asked softly.

"We should keep searching," Michel replied. "Keep searching until we find him. We need more gypsies out in Paris looking for him. And also looking for Avril, in case she knows his whereabouts."

Oriel raised one eyebrow. "Can we trust her? Maybe when he found her, she finished him off."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Esmeralda shouted, standing. "Avril loves him, she would never hurt him!"

They all blinked up at her, and Sabine rested her hand on her arm again, "Be at peace, young one." She turned to the rest of the table. "When he awoke, Clopin assured us that Avril did not try to kill him. We should trust his word."

After a moment of silence, Michel said, "Let's make a formal announcement to the Court. Ask that any gypsy who is willing to go out into Paris and look everywhere for Clopin do so."

Oriel's mouth twitched in a smile. "That will be everyone."

"We should have many still stay behind," Sabine stated. "Too keep things going here. And we don't want the guards to get suspicious about why all the gypsies in Paris are out and about. If Clopin is . . . if he's where we hope he's not, that will give his identity away."

"Agreed," Esmeralda nodded.

Michel placed his hands on the table. "Then let's do it."

HoND

Avril's eyes were sore from crying as she lied limply on the bed and stared blankly up at the ceiling. She hadn't gotten any sleep. How long had it been since she was returned to her room, anyway? Since she had only seen one window since she'd been brought to the Palace of Justice, time had slipped away from her.

She kept seeing the dagger slit Clopin's palm, kept seeing it being held to his face, kept seeing his gaze that was telling her with conviction "_Don't tell Frollo where the Court is.", _kept hearing Frollo's voice asking her over and over to tell him the information.

It was driving her crazy. Not just the memories, but also the waiting. When would Frollo come back? What would they do to Clopin next? Would she have the strength to allow it?

There was a knock and Avril felt like the floor had dropped from underneath her. She struggled to sit up. She didn't want to look weak. But when the door opened, Gervais came in.

"Hello_, _Avril," he sighed, sounding tired.

She stood up immediately. "Did you tell the guards where I was?"

He seemed taken aback. "What-"

"_Did you tell the guards where I was? _After you saw Clopin and I kissing?"

He hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. "I did."

"You bastard!" she shouted, surging forward and shoving him back into the door. "How could you? We're in here because _you! _Clopin is going to die because of _you!" _She was hitting him in the chest, and he was struggling to keep her under control.

"Avril! Avril!" he pleaded, at last getting a hold of her wrists. "Please, calm down!

She was crying again, and the hot tears burned her face as they went down. She yanked herself from his grasp, backing up. "_I hate you."_

Gervais slumped against the door, bringing a hand to his forehead. He had never seen anyone look so upset in his life. "Avril . . . I'm sorry."

She laughed. "You're sorry? Thanks, Gervais, _merci. _It's all better now."

He stood straight. "It could be better again. Just tell Frollo what he wants to know."

"You know?" She tilted her head to the side. "Did Frollo send you?"

After a pause he nodded. "Yes. He asked me to come convince you to give him the information."

Avril took a step forward. "Do you know what Frollo is doing? Do you know what he did?" She pointed toward the floor in reference to the dungeons. "He tortured Clopin in front of me. He said he wouldn't stop until I told him where the Court of Miracles is. I'm dreading the next time he shows up to go another round."

Gervais seemed shocked. "That . . . That must be difficult."

"Difficult?" She placed her hand on her chest, trying to stop her voice from wavering. "It's breaking my heart."

There was a moment of silence before a quiet Gervais said, "When you kissed him . . ."

"I love him," she stated. "And he loves me." Saying it aloud burned her lips in a pleasurable way; she felt as if she could taste those words. He glanced to the side, seeming unsure if it was good idea to say the thought on his mind, so she finished it for him. "I know he's not a human to you, Gervais. But what I feel is real. I lived with the gypsies, and there is no truth to what _Frollo _says. _That man _is the monster. Not the gypsies. Not Clopin."

He sighed, and seemed sincere as he said, "I'm sorry, Avril. But maybe it would be best to just tell Frollo so you can get out of here. I'm sure you could negotiate . . . Clopin's release."

"And then what? Stay on the run while Frollo killed every gypsy in Paris? That would be the most selfish thing Clopin and I could do."

Gervais seemed at a loss for words. He stood there awkwardly, looking everywhere but at her.

She crossed her arms. "You can tell your uncle that we're not giving in."

He pressed his lips together and gave a nod. He seemed battling with staying or leaving, but then the door opened, forcing him to step out of the way.

Frollo came inside, followed by two guards. The Judge didn't even acknowledge his nephew as he said, "Come with me, _Mademoiselle."_

Avril thought she was going to puke. She glanced at Gervais, who was watching with wide green eyes. Her empty stomach growled, and her face burned with embarrassment as Frollo smiled and said, "Hungry? Tell me what I want to know and you can eat again."

Avril caught Gervais recoil in surprise in her peripheral vision, but she stared fixedly at the Minister of Justice and snapped, "I'm perfectly fine, thank you." She walked forward and the guards led her out.

Frollo at last looked to Gervais. "Thank you for trying, my dear boy." And with that they were gone, leaving Gervais alone and unable to shake the look of pure fear that had been in Avril's eyes when Frollo had entered the room.

HoND

The trip to the dungeons wasn't long enough. Avril thought she was going to hyperventilate. Her heart was beating wildly, she was sweating, tears were building up behind her eyes, and her gut was twisting into knots. Her legs felt rubbery, and she thought it was a wonder she didn't fall down.

They arrived and Frollo stopped once again before Clopin's cell. Avril regarded Clopin through the bars, watched his throat contradict as he swallowed and lick his lips that had gone suddenly dry. Avril felt alarmingly cold, even though the torches let off warmth.

Frollo turned to her, his black robe blending into the darkness around him. "Where is the Court of Miracles?"

She took her eyes from Clopin and looked up at the Judge. "I will not tell you."

"Rupert," Frollo said simply.

The guard for Clopin's cell took out the keys and unlocked the door, going inside and shutting it after him. Avril could tell the gypsy was trying valiantly to control his outward reactions. But she still saw his chest begin to rise and fall heavily.

Rupert kneeled beside him and reached for a bag around his waist. He produced a long, thin needle. Clopin blinked at it, his dark eyes widening.

Avril struggled to keep her voice calm and level as she said, "Frollo, don't do this. You're a man of God." The words were poison on her tongue, but she had to try to convince him. "You know this is wrong."

"My dear, you are bringing this pain upon yourself and your gypsy tramp. Just tell me, and it will all be over."

Heat rose to her face at his insinuation, but she remained silent, her jaw set.

Frollo looked to Rupert and nodded once.

As the guard began to lower the needle to Clopin's thigh, the Gypsy King twitched and then pulled away as far as the chains would allow him. Rupert scowled at him and snarled, "Stay still, filth, or I'll stick this somewhere you don't want it."

Clopin complied and the needle pierced his pants and then his skin on his thigh. Avril watched him grit his teeth as the needle sank further into him. She felt like it was happening to her, pain blossoming on her leg.

Rupert pulled it out and waited.

Frollo looked to her. "Well?"

She looked at Clopin and his eyes, alarmingly bright in the dark, repeated _Don't tell Frollo where the Court is._

So she did not.

Rupert brought the needle to his arm and slowly sunk it in, blood spreading on the fabric of his sleeve. Still she remained like a statue, which was taking every ounce of will power she had. A headache pounded at her from lack of food, lack of sleep, and the emotional stress she was enduring. She became sure that if this was kept up much longer, she would die from pure inner pain.

"Go again," Frollo told his guard.

Rupert stuck the needle into Clopin's other leg, and this time a sharp intake of breath escaped the gypsy. He pressed his head back against the wall, his brow furrowed sharply.

"Would you like to tell me now?" Frollo asked.

Avril glared back at him.

"Very well. Rupert, you may leave him."

Clopin's body sagged in relief as the guard left his cell, locking the door after him. He looked wearily up at Avril and managed a half smile. She felt something split in her chest and two tears rolled down her face.

"Guards," Frollo addressed the two soldiers that had accompanied them to the dungeons, "Take Avril to the banquet hall. I have a guest that will be meeting her."

As the soldiers pushed at her, Avril kept her eyes on Clopin until she couldn't see him. She went back up to the first floor and down a few halls until the guards deposited her in a rectangular room. Then they shut the doors behind her, and she was left alone.

A long table stretched out down the middle, its wood so polished it gleamed in the torchlight. It was another room with no windows, so she guessed she was in the interior of the Palace. A red rug was underneath the table, and high-backed chairs sat along it.

After a pause Avril picked a chair toward one end and sat down. The atmosphere made her hungry, and she hoped that maybe Frollo would change her mind and feed her. But then again, she didn't know if she would accept. If Clopin didn't eat, she wouldn't, either.

Then an aloof, female voice purred from behind her, "He is quite good-looking, isn't he?"

Avril turned and saw the petite form of Brigette standing by the wall. Whether she had always been in the room or had just slipped in, Avril had no idea. Her auburn curls were piled on her head, and she wore a maroon gown that accented her figure. She had her hands clasped behind her back, and she was watching Avril with a raised eyebrow and amused smile.

"Brigette?"

She began walking toward her. "Avril." They both regarded the other silently as she crossed to the other side of the table and sat down across from her. "I had begun to think you were dead. But I see why you stayed hidden. I'd almost call him the 's' word, if I wasn't a lady of quality."

Avril frowned at her. "You . . . you've seen Clopin?"

"I visited the dungeons, yes. I just _had _to see who this gypsy was that you reportedly kissed."

Anger flared in her. She felt as if what she had was being violated, with Brigette going down to see Clopin. "What did you say to him?"

"Oh, nothing," she waved her hand dismissively. "He was asleep and I didn't want to talk to him."

"I'd think it was below you to say you found a gypsy attractive."

Brigette giggled in a way that seemed to say she found everyone ridiculous except for herself. She leaned forward conspiratorially. "There's no use in denying a truth. Besides, temptation is supposed to be attractive. Otherwise it wouldn't be tempting." She sat back, smirking.

"Frollo sent you," Avril said matter-of-factly, crossing her arms.

Brigette was about to answer, then paused as the door opened and a servant came in. He was carrying food, but only one tray. He sat it in front of Brigette and walked off. The young woman got out her silverware. "Yes, Frollo sent me. He wanted me to convince you to tell him where the Court of Miracles is, or something silly like that. I just came to see for myself that you were really back and really were . . . gyspy-fied."

Pain shot through Avril's stomach as she watched the other girl eat, but she just crossed her arms tighter. "You do realize that telling Frollo where the Court of Miracles is has nothing to do with purifying me from the gypsies, or whatever lies he's spilling. It's just for his personal vengeance against a group of people he finds inferior."

Brigette nodded. "Yes, I know."

Avril stared at her. "Then why don't you confront him about it?"

"Confront him about it? Avril, please." She laughed. "_No one _can tell Frollo anything. Besides, what do I care?"

Avril fought the anger burning in her. She looked off to the side before turning back, a memory coming to her. "You told me about a young man you liked back home. Andre?"

"Oh, yes," she nodded. "My family and I will be returning home in a few days. I'm quite delighted to see him again."

"Do you love Andre?"

She sighed, seeming to consider. "He's very dear to me. As for love, I don't know. Although I'm positive he's madly in love with me."

Before she could give herself another compliment, Avril leaned forward and said, "The way you feel about Andre is the way I feel about Clopin, but tenfold. Imagine if it was Andre who Frollo targeted, for whatever reason. And he was locked in the dungeons and being tortured until you told Frollo something that you didn't want to tell him. Something that would hurt you and Andre."

Brigette just stared at her, but something shifted in her green eyes.

Avril leaned closer. "I _love _Clopin. And there's nothing I can do to stop his suffering. There's nothing I can do to stop my own. If I tell Frollo where the Court is, I'll never be able to forgive myself. Those are Clopin's people. Those are _my _people. And even if Clopin and I have to die to protect the information we will." Tears burned her eyes as she added, "And it's far more likely Frollo will kill Clopin and let me live the rest of my life with that pain."

Brigette stood up, a line forming between her eyebrows. "I'm sorry, Avril. But it's not my problem."

With that she turned and walked quickly out of the room.

Avril sat there a moment, and then looked at the dish of food across from her. She gritted her teeth, and then shoved it off the table and onto the floor.

HoND

Clopin leaned his head back against the stone and closed his eyes. He hadn't gotten much sleep, and he knew he needed to get more. He was already combating the headache and low morale that came along with being deprived of food. Being deprived of sleep wouldn't make the situation any better.

He wished he could slump back and moan. It had been building in him for so long. He wished he could cry. It was a constant pressure against his eyes. But he couldn't, because that horrible soldier Rupert Thomas was just outside his cell. Even if his eyes weren't always on him, Clopin didn't want to give the man the satisfaction of knowing how miserable he was.

Dried blood was caked on his palm, and where the needle had pierced him three times was still hurting. His entire body was aching from being in one position for too long. His side where he had been sewed up was also sore.

He worried about the gypsies. What did they think had happened? Were they searching for him? He was worried about Esmeralda, his little figurative sister. He hoped she wouldn't be too upset when she realized he was dead. He hoped Quincy and the other gypsies would take care of her. He worried about Avril. Where was she being kept? Was Frollo hurting her, too?

_I wonder how long Frollo will drag this out, _he thought. _I'm really not looking forward to spending months like this. _

There were footsteps and another soldier walked up carrying a glass of water. "Frollo's orders to give this to the gypsy."

Rupert took it and nodded, and the soldier walked off. There had been a few glasses of water sent his way since he'd first been taken here. Apparently Frollo didn't want him to die yet.

Rupert came into the cell and knelt beside him. "A drink for you, gypsy." He grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, giving him the water too quickly. Clopin pulled his head to the side as much as he could to prevent choking. When Rupert took the water away Clopin coughed violently, spitting back out much of the liquid.

The gypsy glowered at the guard as he left the cell, locking it behind him. "I don't think that's the right way to give someone a drink."

Rupert narrowed his eyes, taking his place against the wall once more. "What's it to you? You got your water."

"I also got it in my lungs and on the floor."

"Shut up, gypsy."

Clopin could tell this man had a bad temper, and right now he didn't feel like poking at it. He could do so later. After all, if Frollo and Avril weren't there, it was just him and Rupert. He found the man wasn't conversational, but it was almost more pleasing to get him upset.

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><p><strong>Reviews motivate me to write! <strong>


	14. Chapter 14

**Eep! This is it! The climax! I can't believe it's already here! -faints-**

**Thanks to ServanttotheTallest, EverlastingFlower96 , ImmatureChild, and MisfiredSynapse (wow, thanks so much!) for all your reviews! **

**Disclaimer: If I owned Clopin, I'd be bragging about it every chapter! But I don't. :(**

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><p><strong>CH. 14<strong>

"I'm not trying to annoy you, I'm just saying," Clopin stated. "That armor is pointless. Sure you protect yourself against blades, but that's only if you're fighting someone without any skill. There are plenty of holes and weaknesses in your armor. And to add insult on top of that, all that extra weight will slow you down, making you more likely to get wounded in the first place. If you absolutely _had _to have armor – if you're scared of bleeding or something – chain mail would be the best alternative. You can move more freely in that. Why don't you start a petition or something? Talk to Frollo about it."

Rupert gave a long, exasperated sigh, standing at his usual place across from Clopin's cell. "Gypsy, I swear, if you don't shut up I'm going to come in there and beat you senseless."

"Now, now," Frollo's voice echoed from the corridor. "Let's not be too hasty." He stepped into Clopin's line of vision, his hands clasped before him and looking down his nose. A sneer twitched at his mouth. "We can't have our gypsy friend senseless yet. He's still of use to us."

Clopin shifted, the chains above his head rattling. The stone was hard under his back and bottom, and his body was so very sore from having to remain seated for – what? – days now? "_Bonjour, _Frollo. I was missing you." He glanced about, but didn't see or hear Avril. "Have you come to talk to me yourself?"

Frollo walked up to the bars, close enough for his black robe to brush it. His form blocked off the diluted orange light from the torches and cast his long shadow over the slender gypsy. "Why don't you convince _Mademoiselle _Desmarais to tell me where the Court of Miracles is? You don't want to suffer anymore, and I know you don't want her to suffer anymore. I'll let you both go free."

Clopin threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, Frollo! Do you take me for a fool? I don't expect you to honor any agreement we would make. You'd kill every gypsy in Paris, and eventually kill me. I'd lose everything, and you'd win everything. The one consolation I will have through all this is that when I die and you do whatever you plan with Avril, _we _will still win." A grin stretched across his tired and drawn face. "You'll _never _find the Court of Miracles."

Frollo's expression was tight, his mouth a hard line. His eyes blazed as he leaned closer to the bars and snapped, "You will always lose, gypsy. Once your death has come here, God will smite you as He does all the wicked- down to the fiery pit where you belong."

Suddenly the grin dropped from Clopin's face. His dark eyes locked on the Judge's, and his voice was thick with absolute conviction as he stated, "_You _are wicked, Claude Frollo. And on judgment day, it will be _you _who will burn for eternity."

His words bit like a snake, pouring poison into his veins. Frollo didn't know why the gypsy's words had rattled him so. His kind was full of lies. But Clopin was still staring at him with that expression; as if he had seen the future and was telling the Judge what would happen with surety.

Frollo took a step back, shaking the feeling off. "Say what you'd like, Clopin. We will see when the time comes." With that he turned and left.

HoND

Esmeralda paced at the entrance to the Court of Miracles, the catacomb tunnel yawning darkly before her. Djali sat off to the side and watched her sadly, as if sensing her distressed mood. The activity of the Court of Miracles was quieter behind her, the colorful sheets and banners seeming lackluster and dull. Esmeralda couldn't find much happiness in anything lately. Not until Clopin was safe home.

She heard voices approaching and stopped her pacing. She was instantly disappointed to not hear Clopin. But hope rose in her. Maybe something had been found.

Ten gypsies came into the Court, all seeming tired and upset. They were in the middle of an argument.

"I think we should have stayed out longer," a man was saying.

"What good would it do?" a woman answered. "Practically half the Court is out looking."

Esmeralda felt a wave of anger and desperation shoot through her. "What _good _would it do?" The ten gypsies looked at her in surprise. "It would bring Clopin _home, _that's what!"

A young girl, not much older than Esmeralda, crossed her arms and snapped at the group, "This is a waste of time, let's face it. We've searched everywhere, and all we're doing is denying the obvious. Since we haven't found him, there's only one place he _can be." _One gypsy tried to interrupt her, but she kept going, her voice heavy with emotion. "No one else is saying it, so I will! He's in the Palace of Justice! The only thing we're going to see of him now is his dead body, and that's only if we're lucky!"

Esmeralda heard a loud sob, and at first didn't realize it had come from her.

_No, no, no, NO! _

She covered her face and pushed past the gypsies, racing out of the Court of Miracles. Even after they couldn't see her, they could still her hear bawling until it faded into silence.

HoND

Avril sat against the wall in her prison-room, fiddling with the strings of gold coins that were looped around her hips. The light caught them, causing them to shine. It brought back memories of the Court of Miracles, the jewelry on the gypsies as they danced. It seemed like so long ago now.

She wished she had something to draw with. It would help relieve her stress. The lack of food was making her feel so weak, and she guessed she'd only slept three hours since she'd been brought to the Palace. Even though she was exhausted, sleep wouldn't claim her. She was being eaten up with anxiety; she couldn't rest.

She began to wonder what would happen to her when this was all over. Clopin would be dead for sure. But what would Frollo do with her? Would he kill her, too, and just claim it was an accident or that she'd taken her own life? If he let her go, what would she do then? Maybe she could tell others what a horrible man Frollo was, convince them to rise up against him.

_What do you think you can say now, Avril? You're with the gypsies. No one will trust you. No one will care about what you think. You are the enemy. _

Those words, said by Frollo in a dream she'd had the first night she'd slept at the Court of Miracles, rang in her mind. Perhaps even then she'd been aware of the consequences of her choice. How her former family and friends would look at her.

But how could that be? She refused to believe that everyone was so blinded by their positions in society, by their own problems and what Frollo told them, to realize what was happening was wrong. She hadn't, after all.

She tilted her head to the side, thinking. Maybe not everyone. She remembered Clopin performing in the marketplace, all heads turned up to watch him with smiles. Giving him money.

But cold gripped her heart. Was that all people were willing to do? Watch him perform for their own entertainment, and toss a few coins so he could eat that night? Were they unwilling to stand up and say that the way the gypsies were being treated was wrong?

"No," she whispered. "I refuse to believe the world is that cruel. Someone else must care, also."

But those words were hollow. Perhaps she really was alone.

HoND

Clopin had never been so bored in his life.

Well, that wasn't necessarily the problem. He'd rather be bored than have Frollo bring Avril in for another round of questioning. But the waiting was just killing him. The endless hours of being stuck in the same position, nothing to eat, nothing to do. His field of vision being limited to his macabre cell with its cold stone and blood stains. The rusty iron bars were all that separated him from Rupert, the hot-tempered soldier that was quick to snap. It was fun in itself to get the guard riled up, but at the same time Rupert wasn't one for witty comebacks. It made arguing less interesting.

Clopin cleared his throat. "So, Rupert. Why did you become a soldier?" He couldn't help it, he was bored. And maybe the constant agitation would get Frollo to switch guards. Maybe he could get someone more conversational. Or someone stupid that he could trick into giving up the keys. Clopin wished females were allowed to be guards. He could use his charm.

Rupert narrowed his eyes, looking at the gypsy. "What's it to you?"

"I find that career choice peculiar. I'm of the mindset that, no offense, only losers become guards. Because, you know, if you were talented, attractive, and sociable, then you'd find employment elsewhere. Employment that pays better, too. But qualities such as being untalented, ugly, and unsociable would be excellent for a guard, you know?"

Rupert's blue eyes blazed, his plain face going tight. "How dare-"

"It's fact, _cheri. _Now, let's examine your situation." Oh, dear, this was just too good. "You're a guard because you failed at everything else. We've established that. Why do you think you're stuck down here guarding me, rather than out there in Paris? I think it's because you even fail at being a guard."

Rupert took a step forward. "_Shut up!"_

Oh, he was snapping. This would be fun. "You can't be trusted to track down gypsies and uphold the law, so you're stuck standing in one place guarding a chained prisoner in a locked cell, as if I could escape."

"_Shut up! Shut up!"_

Rupert's face was red, and Clopin didn't like the murderous look that had suddenly come into his eyes. Perhaps there was truth to Esmeralda telling him he teased with his enemies too much. It was time for damage control. "Well, you know, that's just me. I'm only a lowly gypsy."

Rupert walked up to the cell, his eyes still glaring lethally, but a smile had come over his face. "That's right, isn't it? This is your opinion of me. _You, _a damn gypsy, are presuming to judge me." He took out the keys with a jangle that seemed to echo of the dungeon walls. "It's time I put you in your place."

_Merde! _Clopin thought. _Bad idea. Very bad idea. _"Now, hold on, Rupert. Let's not doing anything we'll regret."

The door opened and he stepped in, not bothering to close it behind him. "You've done nothing but insult and pester me for days now. It will stop right here."

Clopin pressed himself against the wall. "Come on, let's be friends. I think I'm starting to like you, anyway."

Rupert laughed darkly. "I bet you will once I'm finished."

The guard shot forward, and Clopin tensed himself and squeezed his eyes shut, ready for the pain.

But instead, he felt the man's mouth on his neck, teeth scratching over the skin before he closed his lips into a kiss. A shudder ran through Clopin's body as panic began to build. He tried to pull away, but Rupert grabbed his shoulders, kissing and licking over his throat.

"What the hell are you doing?" Clopin snapped, his heart beginning to pound. "Get off! _Get off!" _

The gypsy brought his knees up and kicked the man back. Rupert fell onto his side, his armor clanking loudly. His eyes burned bestially as he pushed himself back and up and grabbed onto Clopin again. Rupert's mouth locked onto his neck, and his hands trailed down his sides to his thighs.

Clopin felt fear grip his heart in an ice cold grasp. He began struggling violently, twisting and thrashing. Tears that he had successfully held at bay since he'd been brought here fell from his eyes. He kept kicking at Rupert, and the guard kept coming back. "_Stop! Don't touch me!" _The guard bit his neck roughly and he screamed. He screamed a loud, throat scratching scream. And then he kept screaming, trying to fight his attacker off.

HoND

Avril's head jerked up as she heard the echo of anguished screams from below. Despite the strain of them, she thought she recognized the tone of voice.

"Clopin . . .?"

She stood up swiftly, adrenaline rushing through her. She ran over to the door and started to pound on it. She knew Frollo must have left a guard outside, just in case she was to escape. "Help, please! Help me! It hurts so much!"

The door opened just a crack, the soldier saying, "What's-"

Avril grabbed the handle and wrenched the door open before slamming it on the guard's face. He fell back and she leapt over him, racing down the hall.

Her feet were a blur under her, and she was glad that her multiple layers of blue skirts didn't fall past her knees. She found it ironic that she knew the way to the dungeons. She supposed that long trek she'd only made twice was burned into her memory. She was running so fast she had to touch her hands to the walls as she took the turns, helping her keep her balance. She panted, pushing herself faster. She could still hear Clopin's screams.

She hit the spiral staircase at the same time Judge Claude Frollo did. They briefly glanced at one another before rushing down. Avril was surprised she didn't trip and fall; she was taking the stairs two at a time. She was even more amazed that Frollo was almost always right beside her, his long strides carrying him purposefully. But she wondered that if Frollo wasn't hurting Clopin, then who was?

She stumbled into the dungeons, having to duck so she didn't run into a torch mounted on the wall. She and Frollo raced past the cells, seeing Clopin's with its door open up ahead. His screams were deafeningly loud now, and the pain in them was killing Avril.

She and the Judge slid to a stop before his prison cell, looked in, and gasped.

The guard Rupert was throwing himself at the gypsy, kissing at his neck while his hands pulled at his clothes. Clopin was fighting back more violently than Avril thought was humanly possible, kicking, squirming, and throwing his elbows as far as he could. Tears were pouring down his face, his eyes and the skin around them red from crying so hard.

Frollo and Avril ran into the cell and the Judge grabbed Rupert by the neck, yanking him back as he shouted, "Are you out of your mind?" He tossed the guard outside the cell, walking out to stand over him. "What on earth were you thinking?"

Avril rushed over to the gypsy and dropped beside him. Her bottom lip quivered as she cried, holding his face gently. "Clopin? Clopin, are you all right?"

He looked at her, his chest heaving and his voice raspy as he said, "Avril . . ."

She grabbed the end of her scarf and wiped the saliva off his throat, seeing bite marks on it. Her breath hitched as she sobbed, wrapping her arms around him and not wanting to let him go.

"S-s-sir," Rupert stammered, still on the ground. "I-I didn't mean- He was-He wouldn't stop-"

"You fool!" Frollo yelled. He pointed back at Clopin. "This creature is making you give into sin! If you can't control your lust I'll have you moved!"

"I-I just wanted to show him who was in power here."

Avril whipped her head to face them, standing up. "_How can you treat him like this? _He's a _human, _not an object!"

Frollo turned around, walking quickly back into the cell. Avril held her ground, the noise of Clopin's ragged breathing suddenly very loud.

"I grow tired of asking this," Frollo seethed. "Where is the _Court of Miracles?"_

Avril tightened her mouth, glowering up at the Judge. There was the sound of footsteps and armor and then a few soldiers became visible, hovering a few feet back from the cell. They had probably heard the screaming and came to see what was wrong.

Frollo's anger was boiling. "_Where is the Court of Miracles?"_

Clopin's leg struck out and he kicked the Judge in the groin. As the man doubled over, Avril punched him across the face. She then stepped back, glaring defiantly. The Judge stood, backing into the doorway of the cell. His eyes were blazing like the fires of Hell as he looked to the soldiers and said, "You two, come in here and hold _Mademoiselle _Desmarais down."

Avril started, looking around frantically. But her only exit was being blocked by Frollo, and now the two soldiers that were entering through it. She stepped back from their first grab, but she had next to no space to run. As they grabbed her arms and around her waist, she kicked and pounded at them with her fists. "No! Let me go!"

She threw her weight around, but they rode it, forcing her to her knees and then to her side on the ground, holding her there. She looked up at Clopin, still struggling in their grip.

"You," Frollo looked at another guard. "Give the gypsy our special treatment."

Avril watched as the soldier entered and produced a whip. She thrashed on the floor, but the heavy weight of both guards was on top of her. She couldn't escape. "Don't!"

The soldier gripped Clopin roughly and spun him around, forcing him onto his knees and facing the wall. He looked at her, his eyes wide and bloodshot, and mouthed "_I love you"._

She cried harder. "I love you! I love you!"

The first crack of the whip was deafening. Avril watched his tunic split and a red line suddenly appear. Clopin winced, squeezing his eyes shut. The soldier whipped him again, and again. He was clutching onto the chains that held up his hands, and Avril noticed that blood was leaking from under the shackles and trickling down his forearms. It must have been from him struggling against Rupert.

"Stop, please!" Avril begged, her world blurry before she blinked and the tears ran sideways down her face.

But the lashes didn't stop, and the back of his clothes were becoming tattered and stained with blood. He was crying again, his whole body being thrown forward with each strike. The louder he cried, the louder she cried, until the tainted dungeon air was full of the sound of their sobs.

"Stop! Stop!" Avril screamed, writhing more and forcing the soldiers to press on her harder. It hurt, and she knew they were bruising her.

Clopin was screaming out at each lash now, his voice had that once been so melodic and beautiful now raspy and harsh. Blood was leaking off his sides and dripping onto the floor.

"_Nooo!" _Avril bawled. "_No! _Just stop! Please stop!"

After what seemed like an eternity, Frollo ordered the guard to stop. By then Clopin was slumped against the hard stone wall, his eyes closed and his body limp. But he was still breathing heavily. Avril couldn't seem to stop crying, her teeth chattering and her breath catching.

"Clopin?" Avril asked, her voice thick and heavy. "Clopin?"

Frollo could tell he wouldn't get anything out of her now, so he snapped at his soldiers, "Take her to her room."

The guards picked her up, and she no longer had the strength to resist. She didn't even register as they took her out of the dungeons, through the dark corridors, and deposited her on the bed in her room. Then the door was shut and locked.

The sound of it was what snapped Avril from her daze. She stood up from the bed, but her legs gave out and she dropped to her knees. She kept one hand on the bed to steady herself from tipping over all the way. She was still crying, and she felt so sick to her stomach. She bent over and started to retch, but of course nothing came up. Her stomach was completely empty.

There was a soft knock and then Gervais walked in, shutting the door behind him. "Avril-" He gasped, racing over to her side. "Avril! Are you all right?"

She coughed and gagged, heat spreading across her body before chills overtook it. She at last stopped and slumped back against the bed, panting.

"Are you all right?" Gervais asked again, kneeling. He had his hand on her shoulder.

She shook her head. "No, I'm not."

"What happened?"

She fixed him with a glare. "Did Frollo send you?"

"No, I came myself. I was worried." He looked her over. Her face was thin and there were shadows under her eyes. He knew she hadn't eaten, but it looked like she hadn't slept, either. Tear stains were on her face, and her eyes were still watery. "Gracious, Avril, what happened?"

Her lips quivered, and she pressed them together to make them stop before continuing, "I heard Clopin screaming, so I tricked the guard into letting me out. Frollo and I went down to the dungeon and saw-" her voice cracked "-and saw a guard trying to rape him."

Gervais' green eyes went wide, his jaw going slack.

"We stopped him in time," Avril went on. "And then Frollo had soldiers hold me down and they whipped Clopin. They whipped him so badly! I thought they were going to do it until he died. He-He didn't even respond to me as I was taken out and back to this room." Tears fell from her eyes again, and she was surprised she had any water left in her body. "He's going to die! I know next time Frollo summons me he's going to die. And I'll die soon, too."

Gervais stared at her, feeling his heart clench. He then nodded, standing. "Don't worry. Just stay here- well, of course – and don't worry. I'll be back."

Gervais left her room and hurried down the halls. He tried not to attract attention, but the Palace of Justice was mostly empty, anyway. He entered the foyer and left through the front doors.

He was instantly hit with rain. He blinked up at it, sighing. Clouds had hung low over Paris the last two days, and they finally decided to release their water. He looked across the gray city, bit his lip, and raced out into it.

His boots splashed in the quickly forming puddles, the residents of the city either fleeing into shelter or reveling in the rain. He pushed his hair back from his face, racing through the streets frantically.

At last he saw a gypsy. She was young and was standing just under a balcony, looking out over the area. She looked sad, her shoulders lowered. She had thick black hair and striking green eyes. A goat stood next to her, an earring through one ear.

"Gypsy girl!" Gervais called, jogging toward her.

She started, looking at him. She ran out into the rain, the water covering her bare feet.

"No, wait!" he called. "Please!" As she hesitated, glancing back, he said, "I know where Clopin is!"

Her eyes widened before narrowing. She turned to face him. "What?"

He stopped a few feet from her. "I know where Clopin is. And where Avril is. Please, I need your help."

HoND

Avril was surprised at how quickly Gervais returned. She was certain it hadn't been over an hour yet. She stood when she heard a heavy thud outside the door, and then the Leveque twin had rushed in, wet and panting.

She frowned. "Gervais . . . What-"

"I'm going to help you and Clopin escape," he said quickly. "Hurry, come with me."

But she stood her ground, raising one eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Avril . . . I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I'm the reason you're here. And I don't want you to get hurt or die. And I don't want you to lose Clopin, either. I want to help you escape."

Her eyes widened as she realized he was serious. He was here to help. She felt like she could see the light the end of a long, dark tunnel, and she threw herself at it. "Okay, do you have a plan?"

"Yes, but only if we act now!"

She followed him out of the room, and saw her guard knocked unconscious. It was then that she noticed the sword in Gervais' hand. He carrying a sword looked fundamentally wrong, but she didn't care. So long as he had a plan.

"Lead the way to the dungeons," he said.

She rushed ahead and started running, amazed that she still had any energy. She felt hope blossom through her, warm and comforting, but still with an edge of despair. There were so many ways this could go wrong. And she didn't want to become too committed to escaping. That would make the pain of losing unbearable.

She glanced back a few times to make sure Gervais was keeping up. But he was, staying a few feet behind her and looking around to be sure they were alone.

Avril found the stairs and bounded down them, her bare feet touching lightly. She was surprised how silent she sounded compared to the Leveque twin. She supposed living with the gypsies had, indeed, changed her.

The stairs seemed too long, and her heart was racing. _Hold on, Clopin. I'm coming. _She repeated his name over and over to herself, finding strength and comfort in it. Gervais may have showed her the light at the end of the tunnel, but Clopin would always be her personal candle.

They hit the dungeons and sprinted past the cells. At first Avril was puzzled but relieved that Rupert wasn't there, and then she realized why. Frollo must have assigned him elsewhere because of what he did. Perhaps Frollo decided a guard wasn't needed, or he was in the process of getting a new one. Whatever the case, Avril was glad they had this window of opportunity. And she was reminded of what she'd learned in church; that God uses evil for the ultimate good.

Avril grabbed onto the bars of the cell to stop herself, looking in. "Clopin!"

The gypsy was leaning on his side against the wall, looking exhausted in every sense of the word. He heard his name being said urgently and opened his tired eyes, looking over. He saw Avril, and it took him a moment to realize that Frollo and the soldiers weren't there.

He frowned, struggling to sit up. "Avril?" He then noticed Gervais and groaned. "Oh, no. Not him."

"He's here to help us escape," Avril said. She looked around. "Where are the-" Then she saw the keys hanging on the base of a torch a few feet away. She darted over and grabbed them, unlocking the cell door so quickly that her hands sweated and she fumbled for a few seconds.

The door swung open and Avril rushed in, Gervais standing guard outside. "Which key unlocks your shackles?"

"I have no idea," Clopin responded, sitting up straight and wincing. "Why is he here to help us if he's the one that put us in here?"

"I'll explain later, Clopin," Gervais stated, seeing something change in the gypsy's eyes when he referred to him by name. "Hurry, we have to get going. We don't have long."

"I love you," Avril whispered, at last finding the right key and sliding it into the lock. "I'm so sorry-"

"Don't you dare say that," Clopin told her. "There was nothing you could have done." As the shackles popped open and he slowly brought his arms down – muscles screaming and joints protesting – he smiled and added, "I love you, too."

Avril gave him a quick kiss on the mouth before standing, grabbing onto his shoulders to help him up. They shared a brief hug, arms just lightly resting on others' back, before pulling apart.

Clopin bit his lip to suppress a moan. Everything hurt. His joints popped and his lashed back burned as if it was on fire. He brought a hand to his eyes, rubbing them. "I hope you have a plan to get us out of the Palace of Justice."

"I do," Gervais nodded. He waited until they walked out, Clopin wobbling as he got used to moving again, and they headed together out of the dungeons as he told them, "There's a carriage waiting outside. We'll take that further into Paris. I have a gypsy waiting to escort you both back to the Court of Miracles."

Avril was impressed, and grateful that Gervais hadn't wanted to bring them to the Court himself. He obviously recognized, at least now, how secret and sacred that was.

Clopin frowned as they went up the stairs, starting to get used to walking again. "What kind of crazy gypsy would agree to that?"

"Her name is Esmeralda. I told-"

Clopin held up his hand. "Say no more. That explains everything."

They made it to the top of the stairs and peered out, making sure the corridor was clear. They heard the noise of footsteps, but it didn't draw closer and they held their ground until it faded away. The group hurried down the hall, rapidly increasing speed as Clopin's muscles started waking up and he ignored the pain he was in. Avril was hovering at his side, one hand on his arm in case he collapsed.

"Guards will be all over the main entrance," Avril whispered. "They'll see us go out to the carriage."

"We're not using the main entrance," Gervais replied, turning down a narrow hall. From his visits to his uncle, he was well familiar with the basic layout of the Palace of Justice, including the alternate exits. Of course, he'd never seen any of the torture chambers or dungeons. And he'd never wanted to. "I have the carriage waiting at a side entrance just down here."

Clopin frowned. "There's bound to be at least one soldier at every exit." He saw the door up ahead, at the end of a short hallway, he could also hear a soft and persistent pattering outside that he identified as rain.

Gervais nodded. "I convinced someone to come along and get rid of the soldier." He stopped before the door and opened it slightly, looking out. Then he opened it all the way, revealing a narrow alley with a black carriage waiting. The rain was coloring everything gray, forming puddles along the street. The driver was a man Avril didn't recognize, and she hoped Gervais had paid him for silence. Then again, she supposed, if he was the Leveque's driver, he was in their confidence.

"I also had some food and bandages brought for you," Gervais said, and he opened the carriage door, stepping aside to allow them to enter.

Avril ducked her head into the interior and pulled up short, staring the person in the opposite seat.

"I know," Brigette sighed dramatically, "I can't believe I got bamboozled into this, either."

Avril quickly sat down across from the young woman, Clopin coming in beside her. Gervais called out to the driver to go and sat next to Brigette. He pulled the curtains shut as they took off with a shuddering start.

Brigette fished into a bag and pulled out two pieces of bread. "Here's some food for you two. Gervais told me Frollo was starving you or something ridiculous like that."

They both took it eagerly, beginning to eat. Clopin felt a small measure of relief that they were out of the Palace, that he was out of that horrible dungeon, but they weren't home yet. And he wouldn't feel safe until they were.

"How'd you get rid of the guard?" Avril asked, trying not to look too desperate as she ate. Her stomach was screaming otherwise.

Brigette sat up proudly. "I told him that there was an escape incidence at the main entrance, and that if he didn't go to help he was a buffoon."

"Eloquently stated," Clopin said.

Gervais produced a small bundle of bandages. "Can I see your hand, Clopin?"

The gypsy regarded him before holding out his slashed palm. It was stained with dried blood, and his wrist had several smaller slices on it from the shackles. Gervais proceeded to wrap the cloth tightly around it. "Brigette, would you help out? We don't want him to bleed anymore."

Her green eyes fell on the two small pools of blood on his thighs from where the needle had pierced him. "Oh, no. I'm not going to touch a man's leg."

Clopin gave her a wink and stuck out his tongue sensually.

"I'll get it," Avril said, ignoring Brigette's _humph _of indignation. She reached toward the bandages.

And then something slammed hard into the carriage, throwing them all to one wall as the entire transport tipped and crashed over on its side. Avril heard Brigette scream and felt Clopin crash into her before she hit something solid and her world went black.

Clopin let out a soft moan, opening his eyes. He felt rain lightly hitting him, and raised himself fractionally up. The carriage was a mess around him, all broken and bent. To his left he saw Gervais and Brigette trapped where their half of the carriage had folded in. Through the square hold for the window he could see Gervais pushing at the covering. They met eyes just briefly before Clopin glanced down at Avril underneath him. Her eyes were closed and she was limp.

"Avril?" he asked. He felt for a pulse. She was alive. He then felt the back of her head, but there was no blood. She must have been knocked unconscious.

A slab of the carriage blocking off his view from the world before him tore and fell down, splashing onto the stone street. That let in more rain, the drops hitting Avril's pale face and rolling off. Clopin stared at her for a moment, thinking about how thin and sick she looked. But when he heard the sound of heavy and decisive hoof beats, he lifted his dark eyes and looked up at the figure scowling down.

Judge Claude Frollo sat atop a black horse, his eyes narrowed. He was pulling a carriage behind him, but now the side was smashed in from ramming the other. Paris was a gray blur behind the Minister of Justice, and his dark robe rippled out in the wind.

"One gypsy down," Frollo stated, dismounting his horse and drawing a long sword, "one to go."

Clopin reacted instantly. He sprang up, grabbing one of the carriage wheels that had come loose, and blocked Frollo's wide swing. The blade lodged into the wood, spitting out bits that pelted the two.

"No, Uncle, don't!" Gervais shouted, he and Brigette still struggling to get out. Their driver had gotten the horses to calm down and was now hurrying to help free the two.

Frollo yanked his sword free, wrenching Clopin's arms and almost pulling the wheel from his grasp. But he kept his hold. He wasn't in any pain at the moment, and he hoped that lasted.

"What's this?" Clopin laughed, gesturing at the empty streets around them. "No soldiers, no help. Just the honorable Judge Frollo doing his own dirty work."

Frollo gave him a serpentine smile. "Isn't it just like a gypsy to flee from justice? You've even corrupted those around you: Avril, Gervais, Brigette."

Frollo thrusted the sword and Clopin sidestepped, letting the blade slide harmlessly by his arm.

"I must commend you," the Judge sneered, holding his sword before him. "You are temptation at its strongest."

Clopin shouted as he swung the wheel like a weapon at Frollo's head. The man took a step back and heaved his sword around. The gypsy ducked, his wet hair flinging as he moved, and planted a low kick into Frollo's stomach. The Judged uttered a cry and stumbled back, quickly regaining his balance.

"So, what's this about?" Clopin panted, hanging back and observing the man for a moment. "I didn't tell you the location of the Court of Miracles, so you're going to kill me?" He knew, based on Frollo's earlier statement, that he thought Avril was dead. And he wanted to keep it that way, in case the Judge went after her, too.

"No gypsy escapes from the Palace of Justice!" Frollo shouted. He sprang forward and swung his sword in a wide arc. Clopin ducked underneath, swiveling around and coming up behind Frollo. Bu the man pivoted on the balls of his feet, turning around and not letting Clopin have the chance to get him.

The King of the Gypsies gave a smirk. "It's too late for that, _cheri. _I've already escaped. You just stopped me halfway home."

Avril heard the noise of shouting and of something wooden and metallic banging together. She slowly opened her eyes, and closed them again when rain fell in. She gave a quiet moan, the back of her head throbbing.

Gervais was helping their carriage driver push at the top section collapsed around them. They were almost free. He kept glancing at Clopin and Frollo fighting. The Judge was getting angrier, more aggressive. Gervais could only imagine how much pain Clopin was in, and how stiff he must be. The only reason he was holding his own was because he was fast and light. Gervais thought he moved like a fox. He hoped the gypsy could hold out a few moments longer.

Frollo's blade came swinging down, and Clopin held up the wheel defensively. The sword cut straight through it, and the gypsy was left holding two halves. Frollo's next attack came quick, smashing the sword into one half. It was ripped from Clopin's hand, which also happened to be his injured one. He cried out as he felt pain flare across it.

Avril's eyes snapped open at the sound of the Gypsy King's cry. She rolled over onto her stomach, her layers of blue clothes soaked and clinging to her. She felt dizzy but fought against it. She blinked in the rain and saw Clopin and Frollo.

The Minister of Justice glared down at the gypsy. "And now I shall send you to Hell where you belong."

Clopin hung tightly onto the last half of the wheel, not knowing how long that would protect him, either. He gave a grin and returned, "_Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. _Luke six thirty-seven."

Fire blazed into Frollo's eyes, his face twisting into a demonic snarl. He gave a roar as he burst forward, swinging his sword in an upward arc. Clopin braced himself and held out the wheel. As the blade connected it shattered into wood shards. The gypsy was sent flying, and he landed on his back with a splash. He screamed at the pain that laced across it. He was sure all his skin had just been ripped off.

Avril pushed up to her knees, ready to launch herself at Frollo, when she heard Gervais whisper her name. She looked over to see him halfway out of the carriage, his legs still trapped between the two axles. He had his sword in his hand, and was holding it out to her. And his eyes, wide in the rain, conveyed his message clearly.

Avril reached out and took it.

Clopin glared up at Frollo, anticipating his next move. If he stabbed down, he could try to roll out of the way. If he swung down at his side he could try to summersault. But the pain burning through him made him doubt his ability to move fast enough. It was pulling at his consciousness, threatening to drag him under. He just wanted it to stop.

Frollo said nothing as he raised the sword, his face shadowed under the brim of hit hat, his robe blowing forward and making him seem less like a man and more like a mass of shadow. Clopin braced himself.

And then blood spurted out as a sword sprouted from Frollo's stomach. He stood as still as statue, frozen in the same pose, but his eyes grew impossibly wide. And then Avril's face became visible as she leaned toward his ear, whispering, "It's time for you to receive _your_ judgment." And then she stepped aside, letting go of the sword so that Frollo fell sideways into a lifeless heap.

Clopin hadn't realized his heart had stopped until it began again. His breath left him in a single relieved exhale, realizing how close he had been to death. How close he had been to death for days now. He stayed down, his clothes wet and black strands of hair draped across his forehead.

Avril dropped to her knees, then fell onto her side next to the gypsy. She gazed at him, feeling the last bits of energy she had leaving. When she spoke, it was a whisper, "How did you know that Bible verse?"

He gave a laugh, amused that, of all the things that had just happened, she was asking about him quoting the Bible. "I've been to Notre Dame before, _chérie, _and I _did _listen."

She felt a small, soft smile tug at her lips. She heard the noise of Gervais and Brigette at last breaking loose, loud over the steady drum of the rain. But she was just focused on Clopin as he held eyes with her, puddles splashing around them and rain rolling off of their faces. After a moment more he closed his eyes, seeming at peace. And, as relief slowly melted her bones and muscles and the energy that she couldn't believe she'd maintained for days left her, she closed her eyes, too, and fell asleep.

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><p><strong>Worked on this for quite awhile, so I hope you guys are happy with it! Next is the epilogue! <strong>

**By the way, has anyone seen Megamind? I'm sad to say that I just saw it for the first time earlier this week and I just love it! **


	15. Epilogue

**Well, here it is! The epilogue and final chapter of Mimesis. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed for this! For some reason, I got a lot more attention for this on DeviantArt than here (which never happens) but I do appreciate those of you who followed the story and reviewed! It's why I write in the first place!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own HoND**

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><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

Avril slowly opened her eyes, blinking up at a stone ceiling. For the first time in days she felt relaxed, content, and not tired. It took her a moment to realize she was lying on the bed in her room in the Court of Miracles. The sheet covering the threshold was pulled halfway back, letting in light. She sat halfway up and paused upon seeing Esmeralda sitting in a chair, watching her.

"Hi," Esmeralda smiled. "Glad to see you've woken up."

Avril returned the smile, sitting up fully. She was just wearing the bottommost layer of her gypsy outfit- a short, light blue dress. "Hi. How did-"

"Quincy carried you and Clopin," the gypsy girl answered, already knowing her question. "That man, Gervais, came and got me. By that time Quincy had found me, also. He told us you two were just fine but were asleep. And he figured you were so tired he didn't want to wake you." She laughed. "He was telling the truth on that. You've been asleep all day."

Avril sighed, feeling so good that she was just overwhelmed by it. It felt like a lifetime since she hadn't been in pain – emotionally, physically, and mentally. "How's Clopin?"

"Fine. Resting, like you. We-" here she swallowed, her green eyes misting over "- we patched him up. And sedated him a bit so he wouldn't wake up during the process. He was in bad shape. Frollo must have hurt him badly."

Avril nodded, seeing the images of the dungeon flash through her mind. It was like some horrible nightmare. "He did."

Esmeralda then gave her another smile. "But it's over now. You're safe. And you're welcome back in the Court. I'm so sorry about what happened, Avril. I didn't doubt you, but I didn't want you staying and getting hurt."

"It's fine. I understand."

"Here," she stood up and held out a folded piece of parchment. "Gervais asked me to give this to you." After Avril took it, Esmeralda began to head out. She paused at the threshold, glancing back, and said, "I'm really happy you're back." Then she disappeared into the Court of Miracles.

Avril smiled at the place she'd once been, then opened up the paper. It was a letter, signed by Gervais.

"Dear Avril Desmarais,

I hope this letter finds you in better condition than when I left you. I apologize for aiding, if not being the sole source, of your imprisonment. If I could take it back, I would. I hope my help in your rescue makes up for my mistake.

I regret to inform you that my family and I are leaving Paris sooner than expected. By the time you read this, we will have already left. As you can image, when word reached my parents about what happened, they wanted to flee the city immediately. I wish I could have talked with you one last time and said a proper good-bye.

I asked Brigette if she wanted to say anything in this letter, but she refused. She hasn't spoken about the incident. It's as if it never happened. But, you know how she is.

I hope you'll enjoy your new life with the gypsies. And I send my best wishes for your relationship with your parents. I'm sure the best will come out of it. Tell Clopin I also wish him well. And tell the gypsy girl Esmeralda that I'm thankful she trusted me.

As for my view on the gypsies, which I'm sure you're interested in, I don't know what to think. I had one view of the gypsies, and was content to stick to it. But you, someone I had begun to consider my friend, challenged that notion. One thing I do know for sure is that I'll spend many hours in the future thinking over the events in Paris.

I'm including my address, and would be overjoyed if you wrote back. If you don't, I understand. But, from a friend to a friend, if you or the gypsies need my help in the future, you can always ask.

As for the circumstances surrounding Frollo's death . . . I would be appreciative if you didn't discuss them. I don't believe even Brigette saw what passed between you and I, and I would like it to stay that way. I'm sure you can understand this.

My best regards,

Gervais Leveque"

Avril lowered the letter, giving a soft smile. She sat it down on her pillow and stood up. She grabbed her scarf and hooked it around her neck, then grabbed her sash and tied it around her waist. She noticed a plate of food sitting on the small table and took some large bites of it before leaving her room.

She was thankful the hall where she stayed was set apart from the main area of the Court. She did want to talk to the other gypsies, especially the ones that were her friends, but that could wait. Right now, there was only one person she wanted to see. She took one glance at the small corner of the Court that she could see – vibrant colors, music, and people – before turning to Clopin's room.

She slightly pulled the purple sheet back and looked inside. Clopin was awake, sitting in the middle of his bed and leaning back against the wall. He had a plate of mostly eaten food at his side. He wore a loose white shirt that Avril thought really brought out his skin tone. The material was thin enough that she could see the multiple bandages wrapped around him. He was talking animatedly to Quincy, who stood a few feet back.

Clopin noticed her and paused, grinning. "Morning, _chérie."_

Quincy turned and gave her a smile in greeting. "It's good to see you up, Avril." He looked between her and the Gypsy King, then said, "I'll leave you two alone."

He bent over the bed to give Clopin a gentle hug, and Avril thought their size comparisons almost looked comical. Especially when she heard the large gypsy whisper, "Get better, sir." Then he left, patting her shoulder on the way out.

For a moment, Avril and Clopin just stared at each other. There was so much that had happened, so much that they had been through. There was really no way to express the multitude of emotions in words, but it was conveyed through their eyes.

She crossed the room and crawled into the bed, sitting beside him. "How are you feeling?"

"I suppose I'm in a little pain, but I'm far too happy to notice. What about you?"

"I feel good."

There was a stretch of silence.

"Frollo's dead," Avril whispered.

Clopin leaned his head back against the wall. "Yes, Frollo's dead. Finally."

"Do you think the gypsies' situation will improve now?"

He looked at her sadly. "It's not that simple. Frollo held the view that many people do. The only difference is that he had the power to act on it. But hopefully the next Minister of Justice we have will be less harsh. Less consumed by the desire to kill us all." He gave a half-hearted laugh.

She shook her head. "There's no one else like Frollo, of that I'm sure. I can't believe a man can be so evil."

He regarded her with a raised eyebrow. "By the way . . . how _Monsieur _Frollo died . . ."

Her gaze dropped to her lap. When she spoke, it was a whisper. "I killed him."

"I know. I'm impressed. And thank you. You saved my life."

"I don't regret it," she said, looking at him again. "But I just feel . . . shocked at what I did. I killed someone."

"He would have killed all of us," Clopin told her gently. "His death meant our lives."

She nodded. "I know." She gave a small laugh. "The thought will just take some getting used to."

There was another moment of silence before he said, "I don't even know how to process everything that's happened. I'm not even sure I'll know how to cope with it once I do."

"Same with me," she responded. She then leaned against him, reaching down to hold his hand. Their fingers interlocked, a striped pattern of brown and white. "But we'll have each other."

"So, what about your parents?"

"What about them?"

"They know what happened to you now. And unless their completely brainless they'll realize that you escaped and probably had something to do with Frollo's death. Although no one was around when it happened except for us. They can't prove anything."

She nodded. "We'll be safe from blame. It's far more suspicious that the Leveques left, but no none would try to prosecute them, anyway. As for my parents," she sighed, "I have no idea. Maybe they'll try to forget about me, maybe they'll still try to track me down and bring me home, maybe they'll just accept what happened. I hope for the best, though. I don't want to sever all ties with them."

Clopin chuckled. "Says the woman who came here telling me how much her parents hated her and how much she hated them."

Avril laughed. "Well, I was more immature then." The implication of her statement was left unsaid, but it still hung in the air. Their experiences in the Palace of Justice would forever change them. It had already begun to.

"Frollo called you a gypsy."

"He did?"

"Yes, but you were unconscious then, _chérie."_

She smiled, snuggling against him. "I think I like that."

He rested the side of his face on her hair. "I guess that must make it official, then."

"Oh, sure," she giggled. "If Frollo says I'm a gypsy it must be so."

He felt warmth spread through him, happier than he'd ever been at the thought of her staying in the Court of Miracles. "What about us, then?"

"Us?"

"Our relationship?"

"We have a relationship?"

He could detect the playfulness in her voice, and gently nudged her with his elbow. "Oh, stop it. _You_ asked to kiss _me_, remember?"

"You kissed me back."

"You told me that you loved me in the dungeons."

"So did you."

They both laughed, and Clopin held up their locked hands, liking the way it looked. "I guess we'll see what happens from here on out."

Avril nodded, but didn't feel any apprehension from that thought. In fact, she felt excited for the future. Excited at the prospect of spending more time with him. Even if they hadn't already had strong feelings for one another, their shared experience in the Palace of Justice gave them a bond that would never be broken.

Clopin smiled contentedly at the far wall, feeling a peace he hadn't felt in a while. No traitor, no Frollo, no imprisonment. He didn't know how long it would last, but for now, that moment was enough. "I'm really glad I met you, Avril."

"You mean you're really glad I got captured by your guards and thrown into a prison cell so you could question me?" she laughed.

"It does make it onto my list of the more interesting meetings I've had." He chuckled. "You didn't realize I was the King of the Gypsies. And you asked me if you could speak to him."

She grinned brightly. "Yes, I remember."

"Why didn't you think I was the King of the Gypsies?"

"Well, Clopin . . . Truth is I'd heard rumors of what the Gypsy King would look like. Big, frightening. And you didn't look like them. You're honestly not intimidating."

" . . ."

"Clopin?"

"Lies!"

**The End**

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><p><strong>Again, thanks to everyone who leaves a review! It's always loved and appreciated! <strong>

**I really enjoyed writing this, and I'm sad now that it's over! You can definitely expect more HoND fiction from me in the future, and possibly even a sequel if enough are interested. **

**Thanks and God bless!**

**-Allendra  
><strong>


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